Absolute Survival
by UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable
Summary: Early season 3. Sam and Dean are captured by a family who uses people as slaves. Will they lose themselves in the world of servitude, or will the brothers be able to keep each other alive? Limp!Hurt!Sam Protective!Hurt!Sick!Dean ON PERMANENT HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Yes, I'm starting _another_ story... once again, this came to me on a whim and I couldn't get it out of my head. I had the idea on poll to see if you guys wanted me to write it and I got a pretty good response back. **

**So let's see if this story flies with you guys.**

**This fic takes place in early season three.**

**Enjoy chapter one!  
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The motel room door opened and Sam and Dean Winchester stumbled in from the pouring rain. They walked to their respective beds and quickly and carefully started to shed their soaked clothes.

"Peachy," Dean mumbled. "This has just been an... _awesome_ day," he muttered sarcastically.

"It hasn't been that bad..." Sam moaned as his shoulder screamed at him for taking his jacket off wrong.

"Tell that to your shoulder," Dean said. "That was the most _stubborn_ bitch of a spirit _ever!_"

"Quit complaining," Sam sighed. "We've got one dislocated shoulder. It could have been worse."

"Yeah, well I think the rain can qualify today as 'worse'." Dean knew Sam wouldn't be able to get out of his clothes until his shoulders was popped back into place so he quickly got out of his wet clothes and into dry, warm ones. "Alright, Sammy..." Sam bent forward and Dean put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his back. "On Three. One..." _Crack!_

Sam let out a shout as his shoulder went back into place. "I hate it when you do that..."

Dean just smiled and tossed him an ice pack. "Change your clothes than go to bed. I wanna get the heck outta this town."

"What's the hurry?" Sam question as he carefully removed his clothes. "We don't have any new jobs, and we could use a few days rest."

"Nah," Dean said. "You know me I get restless. But if you really want to..."

Sam sighed. "Never mind. We can leave in the morning."

---

Dean vaguely aware of the slight rocking movement and roaring sound filling his ears. _The hell...?_

Dean slowly forced his eyes open, noticing how hard that task was. _Great. I'm drugged._ When Dean finally managed to pry open his eyes, it didn't do him much good. A thick black hood had been thrown over his head and tied around his neck, not tight enough to choke him, but tight enough to keep it there. As Dean's senses started to recover, he slowly made sense out of the situation.

His hands and ankles were shackled. That's right, not just bound, _shackled_, with thick metal cuffs. So no hope of getting out of them unless he could find something to pick the locks with. A knotted cloth gag was stuffed in his mouth, with in combination with the hood made it very hard to breathe. And he was obviously in a moving vehicle.

But what worried Dean the most was he had no idea where Sam was. Was he in the same situation? Or was he back at the motel, waking up to an empty motel room and, most likely, panicking?

Dean kicked his legs out, shouting through his gag, hoping to get a response of some sort. After ten minutes though, there was no response from anyone.

About thirty or so minutes later, the vehicle stopped and Dean heard car doors open and slam shut. Boots against gravel, a door much closer to him opening. A pair of rough hands grabbed him and yanked him out onto the ground. Dean didn't bother trying to fight back. With shackles and a hood, Dean didn't really stand much chance.

They led him for about fifty yards, where there was a the wooden creak of a door and Dean was shoved in. His hood and gag were removed and the door was shut behind him.

Dean squinted and looked around. The dark, unlit room seemed so bright after wearing that suffocating hood, Dean could see everything clearly. He was in a shed. The smell of blood and flesh permeated to his nose, making him gag. Dean looked around, but couldn't find the source.

Then he saw a large figure in the corner.

"Hello?" Dean rasped out.

The figure flinched. He looked up and Dean saw that he had a hood on like Dean did before. The man let out a muffled grunt and tried to make their way towards Dean's voice. Dean met him halfway and his eyes widened as he recognized the clothing. "Sam?"

He stiffened then reached out blindly for Dean. Dean took his hands in a firm grip. "It's okay, Sam. Just let me get this hood off ya..." Sam gave another muffled grunt as Dean reached up and fumbled with the leather ties holding the hood down over his brother's head.

"Sonovabitch...!" Dean cursed quietly. The knots were small and tight. With virtually no fingernails, Dean wasn't able to get a good grip on any one string. Dean quickly checked his person for the off-chance he might have something to cut the ties with. When he checked his boot, he found a small pocket knife. He flicked out a blade and made sure it was sharp. "Yahtzee." He quickly cut the small ties and pulled the hood off his brother's head.

Sam's hair was soaked with sweat and sticking to his head. His face was a mass of bruises. His lower lip was split and his left eye was almost swollen shut.

"Son of a bitch...!" Dean cursed as he carefully pulled the gag out of his brother's mouth.

"D-Dean!" Sam sputtered out as the gag was removed. "Are you alright?!"

"Am _I_ alright?! Have you taken a good look in the mirror lately? What the hell happened?!"

"Woke up," Sam said. "Saw some guys standing over you, sticking a needle in your arm. I tried to stop them from sticking me too but they got a few good hits in."

"Who?"

"No idea. Didn't recognize any of them."

"How long you been awake?"

"I dunno. Ten... Fifteen minutes?"

Dean sighed and looked around the shed again. "What the hell is going on?" he whispered.

"You think they're hunters?" Sam wondered.

Dean looked back at his brother. "Why would hunters do this?"

"Because..." Sam gave Dean a look.

Dean gave his brother a look back. "Because...?"

Sam scoffed. "C'mon, Dean! If they're like Gordon..."

"Oh." Dean took another look at his brother's face and sighed. "I sure hope not."

Suddenly the door to the shed swung open, assaulting the brother's with bright light. They blinked heavily, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"Hello," a deep voice said. "My name is Marc." He walked in followed by four other men, all holding cattle prods. "I want you to forget what lives you had before. You're now property of the Handerson's. You will do as I, or anyone else of authority, says."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah right."

Marc glared at Dean. "You say something, boy?"

"Like we're just gonna do whatever you yahoos say."

Marc smiled. "Oh, you will. I'll make sure of it."

Dean just smiled back, swiftly sticking his pocket knife back into his boot for later.

Marc stepped up to Dean and held his hand out. "Give it."

Dean frowned. "Give what?"

"That pocket knife you just put in your boot."

Dean stared at the man incredulously. "Fine." He reached into his boot and slowly pulled the pocket knife out. Then, he quickly flicked the blade out and sunk it into Marc's leg. Marc let out a loud curse and the four men with the cattle prods rushed forward. Both Dean and Sam swung out with their shackled feet and knocked a couple of them to the ground. Sam managed to get to his feet and started to swing his shackled fists at the men. Dean bent forward and reached for the knife in Marc's leg, but Marc looked up with a evil smirk and hit Dean squarely on the chin.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as Dean fell backward and landed squarely on his back.

While Sam's attention was diverted, one of the men hit Sam in the back with a prod, causing Sam to shout out and fall to the ground. Once he was down, they all continued to shock him, making sure he'd stay down.

"Stop it!" Dean shouted. "Leave him alone!"

Marc had a boot on Dean's chest keeping him down. He ignored the pain in his leg as he pressed down with unnatural strength, constricting Dean's lungs. He gave the other men a nod and they stopped shocking Sam.

Dean looked over at his brother. Sam's eyes were a little glassy, but they when they focused on Dean, Dean gave a small smile and Sam managed a weak smile back. _Message recieved. Down but not beaten._

"Well," Marc said. "Looks like we're gonna have to have a little training session for you two."

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**Should I continue? FEED THE DRAGON AND LET ME KNOW!  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**So... I guess I'm continuing.**

**I seem to unintentionally be writing this fic in Dean's POV, which is a new concept for me so please bare with the so-so writing quality.**

**I'm really liking this story, personally, for some reason. Probably because it's a bit more realistic than my others.**

**SUPERNATURAL IS TOMORROW! ONLY A DAY AWAY~~~~!!  
**

**Enjoy chapter two!  
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Marc and his men had cut off Sam and Dean's shirt and attached their shackles to hooks hanging from a beam in the ceiling, connecting the shackles on their ankles to hooks coming out of the ground. Dean hadn't even noticed those before...

"We'll be back in a bit, _boys_," Marc sneered.

When he and his men left Dean looked at his brother. Sam was hanging a bit too limply, his chest and back had a few bruises, but nothing serious and nothing they couldn't handle.

"Sam! You okay?"

Sam sighed. "Fine, Dean. My head hurts like a bitch, but I'm fine." Sam turned his head towards his brother, looking him up and down for any serious injuries. "What about you?"

Dean smiled. "I'm fine. Hungry... but fine."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd think of food in a time like this..."

They hung there in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Dean, what the hell's going on?"

"No clue."

"The Handerson's... do you recognize the name?"

"No..."

"From what 'Marc' said it sounds like they captured us to work."

"Work on what?"

"You guess is as good as mine." Sam sighed. "Why is this shit always happening to us?"

"The ol' Winchester luck, I guess," Dean said with that shit-eating grin.

"Cut it out, Dean..." Dean laughed.

"You boys comfortable?" Marc said as he walked up, the same four men behind him. One carried a large duffle bag.

"We're awesome!" Dean smirked. "Amazing accommodations. Room service sucks though."

Marc chuckled. "You think your funny."

"I think I'm adorable."Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah well..." Marc unzipped the bag one of his men was carrying and pulled out a whip. "I'll soon wipe that smile off your face." He handed the whip to one of his men. The man took it with an evil grin and slowly made his way behind the Winchester brothers and out of sight.

"Now that you are property of the Handerson's," Marc said, "You will both be assigned new names." Marc walked up to Sam and grabbed his chin, forcing Sam to look at him. Sam's eyes widened when he realized he was looking _up_ at Marc. He was a really big man...

"Hey!" Dean yelled. "Get away from him!"

"You have very strange eyes..." Marc commented as he examined the youngest Winchester. "Almost oriental." Marc took a closer look at Sam. "Interesting skin tone as well... are you a mutt?"

Sam just glared at the man, keeping his mouth shut. Marc chuckled at the clear defiance. He let go of Sam and made his way to Dean. He took Dean's chin into his hand and did the same as he did for Sam, examining him carefully. Dean gave Marc a deadly glare during his examination. "Think you're a tough guy, huh?" Like his brother, Dean just glared at the man.

Marc's smile widened as he let Dean go and turned around. He stood about eight feet from them, standing at ease. He looked at Sam. "You're name's going to be Mutt." He looked at Dean. "And you'll be Butch." He gave Dean a mocking look. "What's your name, boy?"

Dean scoffed. "Screw you."

Marc smiled and gave a small nod.

_WHAP!_

Dean gave a pain-filled grunt as the whip cut into his back, leaving a long red lash.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "You son of a bitch!"

Dean took deep breathes, breathing his way through the pain. His back was thumping as the blood rushed to the laceration, his arms stretched over his head pulling painfully on the lash.

Marc chuckled again. That chuckle was _really_ starting to get on Dean's nerves.

"You!" Marc pointed to Sam. "What's your name?"

Sam shook his head. "Go to hell."

Marc nodded.

_WHAP!_

Sam let out a short bark of pain as the whip cut into his back. Unwanted tears prickling at his eyes.

"You son of bitch!" Dean yelled. "You touch him again, I _swear_ I'll kill you!"

Marc laughed and gave another nod.

_WHAP!_

Sam screamed this time, the unexpected lash cutting across the previous lash. His back throbbed and started to get hot.

"What is your name!?" Marc yelled at Dean.

Dean looked at Marc than at his brother. Sam had his eyes screwed shut, taking deep breaths. _I have to protect Sam... if I comply, Sam should follow my lead._ Dean sucked up his pride and said, "Butch."

Sam's eyes snapped opened. He looked at Dean incredulously. "Dean! What are you...?"

_WHAP!_

Sam shouted out again as a third lash appeared on his back.

"You will call each other by your designated names!" Marc shouted into Sam's face. "What is your name!?"

_WHAP!_ Sam screamed.

"Stop it!" Dean screamed. "At least let him answer first!"

Marc gave Dean and curious look. "Why do you care so much about Mutt?" Dean just glared at Marc. Marc had an evil twinkle in his eyes as he had a sudden realization. "You two related? You sure don't look like each other. Though you both have stunning green eyes..." He didn't let either brother comment, he just looked back at Sam and asked, "What is your name?"

Sam took a quick look at Dean, who gave a small but confident nod. Sam closed his eyes and muttered, "Mutt."

_WHAP!_

Sam shouted out and bucked in the chains. Blood was starting to soak the top of Sam's jeans.

"What the hell?!" Dean yelled. "He answered you!"

"Look me in the eye, Mutt..." Marc growled. "And say your name."

Sam was trembling as he glared up at Marc and said, "Mutt."

Marc smiled. "Good boy." He indicated for his whip-man to came back. He grabbed the bloody whip from him and replaced it in the bag.

Dean looked over to his brother. Sam had his eyes screwed shut again, breathing heavily through his nose.

"That's all for today," Marc said. "We're going to show you where you'll be sleeping from now on. You can spend the rest of the day recuperating and tomorrow, you start working."

When the men came up and unhooked their shackles, Dean was relieved to see that Sam was standing firmly on his own feet, if trembling a little.

The men led the Winchesters to a large building with what looked like apartments. The brother's were shoved into one, landing on their hands and knees.

"A medic will be by later," one of the sneered as they shut the door and locked it.

The room was small, ten by ten feet, with a bright florescent overhead. There was one twin bed for the two of them, pushed into the corner. The door was blank on the inside, nothing to open it with. It was some sort of metal, which means breaking out would me tricky at best.

Dean got onto his knees and took a better look at Sam's back. Dean took a sharp inhale, feeling his own lash throb in sympathy. Sam's back was open with five lashes, all of them bleeding freely. Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder and said, "Sam? How you feeling?"

"Like I got whipped, Dean. How do you expect me to feel?"

Dean smiled. "Alright, smartass..." Dean got a hold of Sam's arm and hoisted him onto the bed. "I hope that medic gets here soon before infection sets into these lashes..."

"Yours too Dean."

"I've only got one and it's not that bad."

Sam leaned back and looked at Dean's back. "It's looks pretty bad to me, Dean and probably just as likely to get infected."

"Yeah, whatever."

Sam sighed as he leaned forward, wincing a little as his back stretched. "Hey, dude?"

"What?"

"Why did you buckle down so quickly and say 'Butch'? I mean, I _know_ you can take a lot more than that before breaking..."

Dean sighed. "Basically logic took over my pride. I figured, no use in us getting more injured than we have to. We're going to need to be in top shape if we wanna get outta here. I mean look," Dean lifted his shackled hands. "They haven't even taken us outta these, yet."

"Yeah, that makes since. Still, it was uncharacteristically submissive of you. It's taking me by surprise that you were actually using your head for once," Sam grinned.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk."

"'Course that mean that we have to call each other 'Mutt' and 'Butch' while we're in front of others."

Sam grimaced. "That should be fun... Butch. You know that's what they call the dominant partner in a lesbian relationship."

"Shut up! At least I'm not a dog, Mutt!"

"Butch."

"Mutt!"

"Lesbo."

"Shaggy dog! Hey... that actually fits you pretty well."

"Bitch!"

The door swung open and a middle aged woman walked in. She was wearing nothing but a shaggy dress and carrying an old bag. "Hi," she said quietly as she shut the door behind her. Apparently there was someone outside it, because a second later the click of the lock could be heard. "I'm Blu. You must be Mutt and Butch."

Sam gave Dean a questioning look, who reluctantly nodded. Looks like they were going to have to call each other by those names in front of others, too.

"Which one of you is going to be first."

"Sam."

"Dean" they said in unison.

Blu sighed. "I'll do Mutt first since he seems to be worse off. Butch I'm going to ask you to attacch your shackles to the padlock opposite the bed."

"What? Why?"

"Security."

"Hell no, I'm staying right here by Sa-... Mutt."

The door clicked open in response and one of the men came in with a cattle prod. "Do as you're told, _Butch_, or we'll make you by force."

Dean glared at the man for a moment before slowly walking backwards into the corner and slowly attached his shackles to the padlock on the wall. The man smiled in triumph and exited, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Alright, I need you to lay on your stomach, Mutt."

Sam slowly complied, his back starting to get stiff. Blu pulled a bottle of Peroxide from her bag and carefully poured it over each lash. Sam cringed at the stinging substance.

Dean watched Blu carefully as she stitched his brother up, making sure she didn't make any mistakes or do anything _stupid_. Dean was pretty confident she would do a good job though. She seemed to be one of them, just a slave with a false name. Dean assumed she got her name from her electric blue eyes.

"All done," Blu said. She got up and removed a key from her pocket which she unlocked Dean's padlock with. Dean looked at the key hopefully, but she quickly said, "It only unlocks the padlocks. Besides, the doors are locked and unlocked with fingerpads.

"You don't happen to know the code by any chance," Dean asked.

Blu shook her head. "Not with the buttons." She held up her hand. "Fingerpads. All the guards, Masters and Mistresses are programed in but, no one else."

Dean sighed. "So much for that escape plan."

Blu indicated for Sam to come to the padlock and Dean to lay on the bed. When they both complied, she said, "Don't try and escape. It's nearly impossible and if you do, you'll surely be caught. And you _don't _want to face the consequences."

She treated Dean's back then unlocked Sam. As she knocked the door to leave, Sam asked, "What kind of work do they want us to do here exactly?"

Blu turned around and looked at both the brother's carefully. "Assembly line." The door opened and she left.

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**Do I have Sam and Dean's action and attitudes pretty close to the real thing? I'm curious...  
**

** REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**I can't BELIEVE the response I got from the last chapter! Looks like this story is a hit!  
**

**Again, with the Dean POV. I'm not used to it, so please bare with the so-so writing.  
**

**I'm really liking this story, personally, for some reason. Probably because it's a bit more realistic than my others.**

**RIP KIM MANNERS. YOU WILL SURELY BE MISSED BY EVERYBODY!  
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**Enjoy chapter three!  
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Dean was sitting on the bed while Sam paced. Nothing was said or done in the last hour and it was starting to drive Dean nuts. "Sam, will you cut it out!"

"Just thinking..." Sam mumbled.

"About what?"

"Things."

"Dude, I am bored out of my mind! You got anything interesting to share, share it!"

Sam looked at Dean and nodded. He sat next to Dean, wincing at the strain on his back. "Assembly line means pretty much anything that needs assembly."

"Right..."

"Now, if their making anything... like big or complicated, it's going to have a lot of parts. Different parts."

"...Parts that might help us break loose." Dean said.

"Right. Though we only have the padlocks to pick. I'm pretty sure fingerpad scanners can't be picked." Sam sighed as he looked at his shackles. They were starting to cut into his skin, making any movements painful.

"You alright, Sammy?"

"Shackles are just driving me nuts." Sam growled in frustration. "We don't have time for this shit!"

Dean frowned at Sam's sudden outburst. "Dude, calm down. We'll get outta here..."

"Yeah, but how long is that going to take? A day? A week? A month? A ye-" Sam stopped. "We can't waste any time, Dean...!"

_Oh, that's what this is about._ "Doesn't really matter, Sam." Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I'm going to hell. It's been decided."

Sam grit his teeth together. "Not if I have anything to say about it," he mumbled.

Dean sighed. "Let's just concentrate on getting out of here, okay?"

Sam didn't say anything.

"_Okay!?_"

"Okay! God..." Sam got up and started pacing again.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Sammy, sit down... you're making me restless."

Sam hit a shackled fist against the door before sitting next to Dean again. "I swear... we must have done some serious shit in our previous lives to have a life like this."

Dean smiled. "It's not all bad."

Sam looked at Dean incredulously. "What part of our lives have not been totally screwed."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "We still got each other."

Sam scoffed and looked into space. "For now."

Dean looked at his brother and noticed the hint of tears brimming in his eyes. "Sam..."

The door swung open, revealing Marc and the four henchmen. "Ready for your debut, boys?"

"But I haven't gotten all my make-up on!" Dean whined.

Marc smiled. "I'm going to enjoy wiping that smile off your face." He nodded at the four men, who walked up to the brothers with cattle prods on the ready. They grabbed the chains and led them outside. When they arrived at a large building, Marc opened the doors and said, "Welcome to our factory."

Dean wrinkled his nose and Sam gagged at the smell that assaulted them. The place reeked of sweat, blood, piss and feces.

There were hundreds of people. All wearing baggy and/or ratted clothes and had a blank face. There was metal work being done, ovens so hot, the people working there had barely any hair left. There was metal being cut, burned, hammered, you name it. There was also wood being cut and furnished. And a the very end of the assembly line, guns. Hundreds of them. Different types, models and size. There was also artillery, grenade launchers, rocket launchers...

The conditions of the place were awful. Apparently people just relieved themselves as they worked. The floor was covered in excrement. Only the walkways in between the aisles were clean. Which is probably why most the guards were on raised platforms. Walkways and platforms fifteen feet above the ground, guards walking back and forth, pointing their guns downward at the workers. There were also two guards on the ground, per aisle that walked up and down it's length, all carrying whips.

Marc led the brothers to an aisle down at one end of the factory. "This is where we make our larger weaponry," Marc yelled over all the noise. "Launchers and so forth. You two will carry the finished products and set them neatly in those wooden boxes at the end."

Sam and Dean looked. There were hundreds of wooden boxes full of straw. Most were stamped with things such as _WARNING: Dangerous Goods _or _DO NOT OPEN_.

"Once a box is full," Marc yelled, "Nail it shut and carry it outside and place it neatly in a truck."

"So where exactly are these bad boys going, chief?" Dean asked.

One of the men shocked Dean, causing him to give a short bark of pain. Marc stepped up and grabbed Dean's chin. "You don't ask questions, Butch. You just do as your told. If you don't, you'll have to face the consequences." Marc's eyes flickered towards Sam and Dean got the message.

The men shoved Sam and Dean towards their post and Marc and his cronies left.

It was a _bit _cleaner where they were supposed to work. Mostly piss and not as much feces.

"Ugh..." Sam groaned. "I don't even want to know what diseases are swimming in there."

Dean noticed the whip-bearing guards giving them questionable looks and quickly shoved his brother towards their post. "Yeah, but it's either _might_ get a disease through the rubber soles of our shoes or _definitely_ get the tar beaten out us by some guard."

So the Winchesters started working. It was difficult with their shackles still on, but they managed. They did everything at the same pace and were always within ten feet of each other. Neither brother wanted to let the other out of his sight.

When they both had a box full, they carried them outside. Any hope of escaping that way was erased with the guards around the trucks and marching all around everything else. So unless they wanted to get _shot_...

After they placed the boxes in the truck, Dean noticed Sam favoring his right shoulder. When their were out of earshot of any guard Dean hissed, "Sam, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Sam..." Dean warned.

"It's just... my shoulder isn't liking all the heavy lifting."

"You shoul-? Oh... the one that was dislocated."

"Mm-hmm."

"Think you'll be okay?" Dean asked, eying the gun/whip-happy guards.

"I'll be fine, Dean. I've dealt with worse."

Dean nodded, still not completely convinced.

Except for Sam's shoulder, most of the day went smoothly, except when one guard "accidentally" shoved Dean backwards into a pile of shit.

---

At the end of the day, a voice came over the intercom, telling everyone to stop what they were doing and return to their rooms. Except for Mutt and Butch, who had to wait for escorts. Dean figured it was probably because they couldn't be trusted not to cause trouble. And he admits, they're right.

Marc and his cronies came for the brothers and led them, not back to their room, but to the shed.

"It's time for another training session," Marc said as the men hung them back on the hooks. "You'll have one in the morning and one in the evening until I think you are in no more need of any." Marc dug through his bag until he found a knife. "Now it's time for you christening." He walked up to Dean and asked, "What's your name?"

Dean glared at Marc, then at the knife. "Butch," Dean sighed. _Please follow my lead, Sammy..._

Marc smiled. "Good." He placed the knife at the center of Dean's chest and started to carve.

"Stop it!" Sam yelled.

Dean screwed his eyes shut and breathed though pain. It actually wasn't that bad compared to the flogging they received earlier.

When Marc was done, he stood back and admired his handy work. Dean plucked up the courage to open his eyes and look, and closed his eyes again when he saw the word BUTCH carved in his chest.

"You son of _bitch!_" Sam growled.

Marc walked up to Sam and flashed the slightly bloodied knife in front of Sam's face. "What's your name?"

Sam's eyes swiveled between Marc and Dean. Dean was looking at Sam with a knowing gaze, communicating silently with him. Sam nodded and said, "Mutt."

"Very good." He began carving into Sam's chest.

Dean closed his eyes at his brother's pain-filled grunts. It was going against every instinct Dean had not to yell and scream at his brother's torturer, but Dean knew that it could only make things worse for Sam if Dean got careless.

When Marc finished carving the MUTT into Sam's chest, he wiped the knife off and replaced it into the bag. He gave a nod and thick hoods were shoved over the brother's heads.

Dean had to force himself not to panic. The sudden loss of senses made his chest constrict, but he was able to calm himself down. He listened intently to the movements around him. There was a shuffling of feet but nothing else to suggest what was going on.

Dean gasped as a pair of hands grabbed his head. "I think I've figured something out about you two. I just need to test my theory." He let go of Dean's head and Dean waited. Then there was a small whimpering sound coming from Dean's right. From where Sam was.

"What they hell are you doing?!" Dean asked. No one answered, but the whimpers got more desperate. "Sam?! Sa-!"

_WHAP!_

Dean let out a shout of pain as the whip made lash across his back.

"That's not his name, Butch," Marc sneered. A deep gasping and coughing sound came from where Sam was. A few seconds later he was silenced again and the whimpers came back.

_Their suffocating him!_ Dean realized. "You son of a bitch! Stop it! Stop it, please! Sa-!"

_WHAP!_

"Ahh! Argh... Mutt! Goddammit, Marc, stop it!" He didn't care how desperate he sounded. Sam's whimpers were getting weaker and that could only mean one thing.

The gasping and coughing came back and Dean sighed a sigh of relief.

"Interesting..." Marc said.

Their hoods were removed and Dean frantically checked out his brother. Sam's eyes were wide and unfocused. He was taking deep shuddering breathes, trying to provide oxygen to his deprived body. His lips were slightly blue but were getting better by the second.

"You will be escorted to your quarters," Marc said. "Your dinner will be waiting for you. Have a nice night, boys."

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**Do I have Sam and Dean's action and attitudes pretty close to the real thing? I'm curious...  
**

** REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**This chapter is a little bit darker than the rest, though not a whole lot (Not like my other stories :P) Just giving you a heads up**

**I'm a little uncertain about where I'm going with this story, so please give me feedback XD  
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**Enjoy chapter four!  
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Sam and Dean were once again thrown into their rooms. Sam just lay there, still trying to catch his breath. Dean crawled over to his brother and flung an arm around his shoulders. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam put a finger up, telling Dean to wait a moment. Sam swallowed a couple times before nodding. "'M fine. You?"

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders and helped him onto the bed. Dean's boot hit something with a soft click and when he looked down, he saw a couple bowls of thin soup. Dean picked them up and handed one to Sam. "Bon appetit!" Dean said dryly before quickly draining his soup in a couple gulps. He winced at the texture and taste. It was like swallowing phlegm with chunks in it.

Sam just stared at his bowl. "Could it kill them to give us some water?" he rasped out.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe later. Eat that Sam. You need to keep your strength up." Dean bent over to put his bowl back on the ground when he heard Sam curse behind him. Dean sat back up and said, "What?"

"You're back!"

Dean sighed. "It's not that bad. Doesn't even need stitches."

"No, but now you have two open wounds."

"So?"

"So... in case you haven't noticed, this place is a breeding ground for deadly infections!"

"I'll be fine Sam."

Sam shook his head and looked at the soup again before quickly draining it. He winced at the texture and taste.

"I guess we should go to sleep now," Dean said.

Sam scoffed. "You're joking right?"

"What do you suggest we do?"

Sam pursed his lips together. He wanted to say something along the lines of trying to break free... but then again, what could they do? Sam sighed. "There's only one bed, Dean."

"We've slept in the same bed before. What's the problem?"

"How about the fact that last time we slept in a bed together, we were teenagers and it was a king size. This is only a full."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Really, Sam. We'll fit fine. And if we don't, I don't mind sleeping on the floor."

"With your back!? Nah ah. I'll be the one sleeping down there."

"You have more lashes than me!"

"None of mine are open."

"Fine..." Dean growled. He pulled the blanket and pillow off and handed them to Sam.

"Dean..." Sam said.

"If I get the mattress, you get the rest," Dean said. No arguments allowed.

Sam sighed as he lowered himself to the floor and lay out the blanket and pillow. Dean lay down on the mattress while Sam lay on the ground.

"Wish they'd turn off the lights," Dean said.

"Whatever, dude." Now that Sam was laying down, he felt exhaustion start to overcome him. "Go to sleep."

Dean rolled on his stomach and closed his eyes, going over possible escape strategies for getting out of there.

---

When Sam woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the light was off. Then he heard what woke him up.

_Dean._

Dean was moaning and tossing in his sleep. His breathing was slightly labored and the occasional whimper emitted from him.

"Son of a bitch..." Sam whispered. He quickly got up and worked his way through the pure darkness. When he felt the edge of the bed and sat on the side, he could feel Dean moving around and the heat emitting from him. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and noticed the slippery wetness there.

He was burning up, sweat coating him, and Sam couldn't get him to wake up.

Sam hurried to the door and starting banging. "Hey! My brother's sick! He needs help! Hey!"

All the scenarios ran through Sam's head. What if Dean died because he couldn't get the proper attention? He'd go to hell and leave Sam alone in this hell hole, and Sam wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Sam doubled his efforts. "SOMEBODY! HELP! MY BROTHER NEEDS HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE!"

Suddenly the door swung open. Sam cringed fell back at the bright floodlights cast into the dark room.

A man walked in and grabbed Sam's shackles in his shocked state and quickly attached him to the padlock. Other men surrounded Dean, examining him.

"Hey!" Sam yelled. "You gonna help him or what!?"

The man that padlocked him hit him across the face with brass knuckles. Sam shook his head to get rid of the sudden dizziness and looked back up with a bruised face and bloody lip.

"You will not speak unless spoken to, Mutt."

The men surrounding Dean suddenly picked him up and carried him out.

"What are you --!"

The man kneed Sam in the stomach, causing Sam to cough and double over as far as the padlock would let him. "You just don't learn, do you, Mutt?" He started to beat Sam. The brass knuckles bruised and cut Sam's skin, the man kicked Sam hard with steel-toed shoes.

After he was done, he unlocked Sam's padlock and Sam fell limply to the ground, moaning and breathing heavily.

"Until tomorrow, Mutt." He left and started to shut the door.

"Wait..." Sam whispered. "My brother... where's my brother!"

The door slammed shut, leaving Sam in the pitch dark, bruised and bleeding.

---

When Dean woke up, he felt awful. His body felt heavy and his back was on fire.

He was laying on his stomach, on a clean bed with sheets. Dean's eyes snapped open. He winced at the bright light, but managed to keep his eyes open. The room was bright white and clean and Dean immediately recognized it as a hospital room.

"Sam..." Dean whispered. Dean tried to get up, only to discover that his wrists and ankles were in soft restraints. Dean started to pant as he suddenly felt very tired. "What the hell..."

"Butch?"

Dean looked up and saw Blu looking at him concerned. "Butch, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Where's Sam?"

Blu frowned. "Who?"

"Sa - Oh. Mutt."

Blu's eyes widened and she looked around to make sure they were alone. "Don't get caught calling him by his real name. They'll punish you, even if you're sick."

"I'm not sick. Where is he?"

"I assume he's still in your cell." Blu dipped a white cloth in a bowl of water and squeezed out the excess. She started to dab Dean's back carefully. "You have an infection. Thankfully we caught it early on so you should be able to go back to work in a day or two."

"'Thankfully?'" Dean inquired. He couldn't imagine going to work in that awful place as something better than this.

"If you're here for too long, they'll order to put you down."

"Oh."

Blu continued to dab Dean's back. Dean closed his eyes as the ministrations. He found it soothing, despite the circumstances. "Blu?"

"Yes?"

Dean opened his eyes. "How come you're not like the others? They all seem to just be zombies..."

Blu paused in her dabbing. She dipped the cloth in the bowl again and left it there. "I don't know. Madam Handerson took pity on me after my first beating. When she discovered that I was a trained nurse, she granted me immunity. Though if my transactions are serious enough, I may still be punished." Blu grabbed the cloth and wrung out the excess water. As she started dabbing again, she said, "Even though you and your brother have to call each other by your new names, you need to try and remember your old ones. They're pretty much key to keeping yourself here."

"What's your real name?"

Blu cast her eyes down on Dean's back and Dean realized. She didn't remember hers.

"I don't really remember anything from before," she whispered. "I remember a handsome man that made me happy but... I don't remember his name, or how I even knew him. And even that memory is fading." Blu put the cloth back in the bowl and stood. "I have other duties to attend to. I'll be back in a while to check on you." She turned to leave.

Dean could tell he was starting fall unconscious again. "Blu!" Dean managed out.

Blu stopped and turned to look at the Winchester.

"Can you check on my brother? Let him know that I'm going to be okay. I'm sure he's worrying himself into the ground..."

Blu gave a small smile and Dean was struck by how beautiful she was when she did. And he found himself wondering how beautiful she was with a full blown smile...

"I shall try, Butch."

With this, Dean fell unconscious.

---

It was very _boring_ laying strapped to a hospital bed for hours on end. Dean was actually kind of grateful when he was unconscious. Time moved faster. Blu came in every two to check up on him. Most of the time, Dean was out and unaware of her presence. She would sit with him and if he was awake, they would to talk about pointless things. That and Sam. Blu had not been able to see Sam yet, but she said she would continue to try.

There were no windows, no clocks and the lights were never turned off so he had no way of knowing how long he was unconscious for or even how long he'd been there.

Dean remembered Marc saying how they'd have a 'training session' every morning and evening and was praying to high heaven that they weren't going too hard on Sam. Blu said he'd be in here for two days max, so Dean hoped that they wouldn't be able to do too much damage. Sam was a strong kid. He'd hopefully make it through fine.

---

After a while, Dean started to stay conscious more than unconscious. He wasn't sweating profusely, and he wasn't fevered and quite as uncomfortable as before. "How long has it been?"

"A day and half," Blu responded while writing down Dean's stats. "It's about 2 in the afternoon."

"Have you--?

"I haven't seen Mutt. If he's anything like you though, I'm sure he's fine."

Dean nodded. It still didn't ease his worry though. "So when am I getting out of here?"

"Marc and a couple of his men will come to re-shackle you and take you to the factory soon. Then you'll be put back to work at your post."

_Then I can check up on Sam._

"I have to go and give this information to Master Handerson. I'll see you later, Butch."

"Bye, Blu," Dean mumbled to her back as she left. She really was a beautiful woman. Any other circumstance, Dean would definitely hit on her.

As promised, a little while later, Marc and a couple of his cronies entered the room. "Ready to work, Butch?" he sneered.

"Definitely," Dean said with a glare, silently telling him he was a dead man if anything was wrong with his brother. (Not that he wasn't a dead man already in Dean's book.)

Marc smiled and nodded to the men. They slowly undid the soft restraints and at the same time, attaching the shackles and reopening the cuts that they had left before.

When Dean was completely shackled, he was lead outside. Dean looked around and saw that the clinic was a separate building near the factory. It was a strange sight, the dirty, ugly factory next to the white, clean clinic. Although the arrangement made sense, the irony wasn't lost on Dean.

They walked into the building and shoved Dean in. "Go to your post, Butch," Marc ordered before he and the men left.

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He practically ran to his post, looking for Sam. He didn't see him at first, but then saw the shaggy haired man placing the guns in a neat pile so they were easier to carry. Dean ran up to him and smiled. "Hey, Sammy," he whispered so he wouldn't be heard.

Sam didn't respond just picked up the guns and carried them to a crate. Dean frowned. He quickly picked up a pile of guns himself and followed Sam. "Sammy! Are you alright?" Dean did a quick once over of Sam, berating himself for not doing it sooner, and felt his heart sink.

Sam's back was a mass of dried blood. Small rivulets of blood leaked out through small cracks that were formed from Sam moving too much. His pants were filthy, soaked in sweat and piss.

_Son of a bitch! I was only gone for a day and a half!_ "Sam!" Dean whispered harshly. When they both had placed their pile of guns down and started heading back, Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder and shook it hard.

Sam gasped in pain and finally looked at him. Dean suddenly wished he hadn't.

His face was bruised up and his lower lip was completely split through on the left side, making his lip flap around uselessly. His eyes were glassy and blank, but worst of all, they held no recognition when they looked at Dean.

* * *

**So... how is it? I'm not sure about the direction of the story, so like I said before, all feedback on ANYTHING is great! Really, if you think it's awful or you really don't like a certain part of the story, let me know and I'll try to improve on the next chapter.  
**

** REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**This chapter is a bit dark, though not a whole lot (Not like my other stories :P) Just giving you a heads up**

**I'm a little uncertain about where I'm going with this story, so please give me feedback XD  
**

**Enjoy chapter five!  
**

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Dean stayed close to Sam at all times, even though he didn't seem aware of Dean's presence. Dean didn't dare try to get Sam to snap out of it in the factory. He'd have to wait until they got back to their room.

Things were completely uneventful for the rest of the day. At the end, as promised, they were both taken back to the shed. They hung Dean on the hooks, but kept Sam back.

"Mutt doesn't need anymore training," Marc said to Dean's expression.

"Then why bring him here?" Dean asked.

Marc didn't answer. He just gave a small nod and a searing burning sensation shot up through Dean's side. Dean screamed through a bitten lip, trying to keep the sound as muted as possible.

"Only speak when spoken to," Marc said.

_I was spoken to_, Dean thought, but kept it to himself.

Marc walked back and forth in front of Dean. "What's your name?"

"Butch."

Marc gave Dean a small smile and looked back at the guards who flanked Sam. He nodded.

_WHAP!_

Sam screamed and fell to his knees. One guard grabbed Sam by the hair and pulled him into standing position. They laid the whip on him two more times.

"STOP IT!" Dean shouted.

"What is your name?" Marc asked.

"Butch!"

_WHAP!_

"GODDAMMIT! I said Butch!"

"What is your name?"

"BUTCH!"

_WHAP!_

_WHAP!_

"What is your name?"

_WHAP!_

_WHAP!_

_WHAP!_

"BUTCH! MY NAME IS BUTCH! I AM BUTCH! BUTCH, BUTCH, BUTCH, BUTCH!" Dean screamed.

Marc held up a hand and they stopped beating Sam. For a few moments, the only sounds in the shed were of Dean's deep pants and Sam's whimpering sobs.

"I think that's good for now," Marc said. "Take them back to their room."

---

After they were tossed back into their room, Dean immediately ran to Sam's side and cradled his head in his hands. "Sam!"

Sam looked up at Dean with fearful, unfocused eyes. He shed away from Dean's touch, but Dean held firm.

"Sam! Sammy, it's me..." Dean started to wipe the tears tracks on his brother's face. He was able to get a closer look at the damage those monsters caused.

Sam's face was pretty bruised and cut up, the worst of it being his lip. Sam looked like Frankenstein with the cuts and split lip, in the completely not-funny way. Sam's back was bleeding freely, but looking closer, Dean could see that Sam's back looked worse than it actually was. There was more dried up blood than anything else. Dean just had to get him cleaned up.

Dean got up, and slowly led his whimpering brother to the bed, where he laid him on his stomach. Sam looked up at Dean and frowned. "D-Dean...?"

"Yeah!" Dean said excitedly. "You back with me now, Sammy?"

Sam's frowned deepened. "'San'y?'"

"Yeah... that's you. You're name is Sam."

Sam shook his head. "'Utt..." Sam mumbled, his lip making it difficult to form words.

The door to their room opened and Blu stumbled in with medical supplies, the door closing behind her. She gasped when she saw the state of the younger brother. "Oh my lord..."

"You mean you haven't see this yet?!" Dean didn't mean to bark at her, but all he was feeling right now was anger at what happened while he was in the infirmary.

"I'm only allowed to treat those they let me!" Blu snapped back. She walked over and sat by Sam's side. "Mutt?"

"Yes?" Sam whispered.

"Do you remember where you were before you were here?"

Sam's eyes widened and he started to panic. "Don't fut 'ee fack in dere! 'Lease...!"

"Oh, shit..." Blu whispered. "I don't mean before this room. I mean before you became Mutt. Do you remember who you were before?"

Sam gave Blu a confused look. "S-San...?"

Blu smiled. "You back?"

Tears started to well in Sam's eyes as he nodded. "Godda'nit..." he mumbled. He buried his face in the pillow.

Dean sighed in relief. Sam wasn't gone. Not yet.

Blu stood and said, "Butch, I need you to padlock yourself."

"But...!" Dean protested.

"If someone walks in here and you're not where you're supposed to be, we'll all be punished."

Not wanting to be responsible to putting others at risk, he reluctantly walked to the corner and padlocked himself.

Blu treated Sam, washing his back, cleaning the lashes and adding stitches where they were needed. Sam remained passive through all of it.

As Dean suspected, Sam's back wasn't as bad off as it seemed. Though it was still a mess. Dozens of lashes crisscrossing each other in a grotesque patchwork.

"Mutt?" Blu whispered after she was done. "I need to stitch up your lip."

Sam didn't move for a few moments. Then he sighed and pushed himself into sitting position.

Dean looked away as Blu stitched his brother's face. As much as he hated to admit it, that lip made him feel sick to his stomach and watching Blu deal with it just made him want to vomit.

When Blu was done, she unlocked Dean's padlock and packed up her spoiled supplies. Dean immediately went over to sit by Sam's side. Sam had his head bowed down, his face hidden by his long hair. He absolutely refused to look at his brother.

"Mutt's dehydrated," Blu said. "I'm going to request some water be brought by."

"Thank, Blu," Dean said.

Blu smiled and knocked on the door. It was unlocked and opened and she left.

Once the door was closed again, Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam flinched at the touch, but didn't try to break the contact.

"Sammy?"

"Y-yeah?" Sam croaked out.

Dean was taken back by the amount of emotion in the response. Then Dean felt the slight tremble under his hand and he realized Sam was crying. "Sammy, what happened?"

Sam shrugged. "Couldn't take a beating, I guess," Sam muttered bitterly.

"Cut it out!" Dean chided. "I know you, I know they did more than beat you!"

Sam gave a bitter laugh as he raised his head to look at his brother. He glared through the beaten and deformed face. "How do you know?" Sam challenged. "What makes you think I was strong enough to keep my own _mind _through the pain?"

Dean sat a little straighter, taken aback by Sam's vehemence. "Because I know you," Dean said confidently. "Tell me what happened."

Sam shook his head. "You're such an idiot," Sam murmured. He sighed. "I swear, all they did was beat me."

"Bullshit. What were you talking about before? When you were practically _begging_ Blu not 'put you back in there'? Back where?"

"Just drop it, alright?"

"No! Goddammit Sam... how am I supposed to help you if you don't tell me?"

"I didn't ask for your help."

"I the oldest. I don't need your consent to help you."

Sam rolled his eyes. He breathed out a long sigh and bowed his head again. "A box."

Dean frowned. "They put you in a box?"

"Tall, long and stands up straight. And really small. So you have to stand up; can't crouch or bend your knees barely at all. Not that you could anyway, since they strap you to one of the walls of the box." Sam closed his eyes at the memory. "It stands in the middle of this dark room. Even when the box is open, it's pitch black..." Sam bit his lip, tears threatening to fall.

Dean gave his brother's shoulder a comforting squeeze. Dean knew his brother was extremely claustrophobic, thanks to their father, who dealt with Sam's fear of the thing in the closet the wrong way.

---

_Dean came home late, two in the morning. And he was feeling GREAT! A late night having fun with a hot chick, not the mention free food, there was no way this night could get any better!_

_It could, however, get worse._

_Dean found a note on the table left by his father. Pastor Jim had called him, asking for backup. John said he didn't expect to be gone for long, but if he wasn't back in three days, they were to leave and drive to Uncle Bobby's._

_Dean sighed. He really wished his father wouldn't just leave so suddenly without telling him all the details or asking for backup himself. If Jim needed backup, then mostly likely, John did too._

_There was nothing Dean could do about it now though. He walked into the room he was sharing with his brother and fell on his bed with a satisfying thump. He closed his eyes and almost instantly fell asleep. However, a small whimper kept him from dreamland._

_Dean sat up in his bed and looked over at Sam's, thinking he was having another nightmare. When he found it was empty, Dean started to panic. "Sam?!"_

_Dean listened carefully and heard ragged breathing coming from the closet. Dean leapt from the bed and tried to yank the closet door open, but was locked._

_"The hell...?!" Dean knew Sam was scared of the closet and the potential thing inside, even though both he and his father have checked it and assured Sam it was safe. Why Sam would lock himself in there was mind boggling to Dean._

_Dean yanked on the closet door with all his strength over and over again, until the wood finally gave and snapped. Dean flung the door open and looked for Sam._

_Sam was curled in the corner, rocking himself almost hysterically, tears streaming down his face._

_Dean quickly scooped Sam up and carried him out of the closet. He sat on his bed and rocked his brother back and forth while holding him close to his chest._

_"D-Dean...?" Sam whispered._

_"Hey! Sammy...! How ya feeling, buddy?" Dean could of hit himself. 'How ya feeling!?'_

_Sam didn't answer. Instead he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and buried his face into Dean's shoulder. If Dean didn't know better, he'd say his brother's sobs _increased.

_"'M sorry..."_

_"What?!" Dean said. "What on earth are you sorry for?"_

_"Tried to be brave," Sam sobbed. "I tried too, I swear!"_

_"Sam, what are you talking about?"_

_Sam turned his head a little and glanced back at the closet before quickly burying his face again. "Dad said he'd prove to me there was nothing in there." Sam's trembling increased. "I'm sorry I got scared! Please don't be mad at me...!"_

---

After their father came home from that hunt was one of the few times Dean got into a fight with him. From what he could tell, his father had good intentions, to smother Sam's fear of the thing in the closet. But after John put Sam in there, he somehow forgot that his son was in there. So when the hunt called, Sam's captivity in the closet didn't occur to him at all, which means Sam was probably in there for at least seven hours.

Sam's been petrified of small places ever since.  
_  
_"Sorry, Sammy. I should have been there."

Sam shook his head adamantly. "You were sick. Needed to get better."

"Still doesn't mean I shouldn't have been there. And when I get my hands on that Marc..."

"No. You're right, we need to just go along and try to keep our strength up."

"Well there's no point to that if they're just gonna torture us needlessly!"

"It wasn't... necessarily needless."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sam gave a strained smile. "This one guy accidentally got shoved and fell onto the ground. A guard started beating him for it, and I tried to stop the guard. I was interfering with 'justice.'"

"Oh..." That was just like Sam. Totally disregard himself when helping someone else.

Sam sighed. "We should probably get some sleep."

"Blu said she was going to have some water brought by."

"Blu said she'd _try_ to have some water brought by. By the looks of it, it ain't coming. Let's just go to sleep. I'm exhausted."

Dean nodded. "Alright, but this time, _you _get the bed and _I'll_ sleep on the floor..."

"Actually -- !" Sam interjected panicky.

Dean looked at Sam, confused at the sudden interjection.

Sam looked down at the bed he was sitting on. He licked his lips nervously. "I-I think there's enough room for both of us..." Sam looked at Dean hopefully.

It took Dean a moment to comprehend, but then he realized that Sam didn't want to sleep alone. In any sense of the word.

"Yeah, you're right," Dean said looking at the bed. "I bet we can both fit."

Dean and Sam adjusted their positions and lay back in the bed, Dean on his side, Sam on his stomach. The lights overhead suddenly shut off, leaving them in total darkness. Just in time.

Dean was almost asleep when a fearful whisper came from the other side of the bed.

"I thought you were dead," Sam mumbled into his pillow, barely loud enough for his brother to hear. "They took you away all sick and didn't tell me where they were taking you. Then Marc told me they p-put you down, 'cause you were useless. Didn't believe him at first... but he kept repeating it, over and over and over again..." Sam sniffed and Dean knew he was holding back tears. "Thought you were in _hell_. Couldn't get you out..."

Dean leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Sam's shaking shoulders. I'm right here, Sammy. I'm right here."

* * *

**Okay, I know some of you think that I hate John, because I keep making him a bastard. This isn't true. I believe that John is a hardass and the way I make John act, is how I think the actual John Winchester from the show would have acted given the circumstances. Really. In my mind John is only evil in Replacement.**

**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**This chapter is darker than my others. not for the squeamish.  
**

**Now I'm a little uncertain about where I'm _now_ taking the story... so as always, feedback is much appreciated XD**

**No SN episode tonight :(  
**

**Enjoy chapter six!  
**

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All too soon, the overhead light was turned on and the door to the cell swung open. Two guards came in, grabbed Sam and Dean's chains and easily dragged the barely awake brothers outside. Dean squinted at the sudden light that attacked his retinas. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed that it was still dark out, there were just flood lights everywhere.

The guards led all the slaves to lines that led to large buckets of water. The guards forcibly shoved the slaves to bend down and drink for thirty seconds before pulling them up and shoving them over to the factory. Dean noticed how he and Sam were some of the only slaves who seemed to have personal guards.

There was a particularly cruel guard at one of the buckets who repeatedly dunked the head of the slaves into the water. After thirty seconds were up, he shoved the slave away and called for the next one. Dean was very thankful he and Sam weren't in that line.

After they both had their turn at the water bucket, the guards led Dean and Sam back to the shed and hung Dean on the hooks while they held Sam back, still thinking he was submissive.

Marc came in a few moments later with the same group of lackeys. He walked up to Sam and put a finger under his chin. "What's your name?"

Sam's eyes swiveled to Dean for a second before he quickly said, "Mutt."

Marc frowned. "Hang this one up too. He's not broken yet."

Dean silently cursed to himself as the guards hung Sam on the hooks next to him. He was hoping that they'd still think Sam was submissive. If they did, that means he wouldn't be tortured as much. But then that wouldn't be true to the Winchester luck, now would it?

Marc sighed as he looked between the two brothers. "I honestly don't know what'll break you two. I've tortured you and separated you and you still keep on beatin' that drum of yours. Though, I admit, Mutt was pretty damn broken when I told him you were dead."

Marc stepped up in front of Dean and stood only a few inches away. Dean glared while Marc sneered. "He was a sobbing mess, you know. He wasn't broken yet, but damn... to think _your_ death could have that much impact on him. You two are more than just friends..." Marc chuckled as Dean's eyes darkened. "It seemed like that boy would never break. Until we put him in solitary confinement. We only had him in there over night and he was a broken man by morning. At least, we thought he was."

Marc turned himself and went to retrieve something. Dean looked over at his brother. Sam's head was bowed down, his long bangs covering his eyes as he seemed to try and hid from his brother in shame. Dean wanted to reassure Sam that he had nothing to be ashamed of, but that would most likely end with punishment from Marc and his buddies.

"And..." Marc announced in a louder voice. "I think I know how to break you two." He gave a plastic bag to each of two guards that then went to stand behind each brother. Dean tensed, not liking what his brain was telling him that meant.

The guard behind Sam promptly placed the plastic bag over Sam's head and squeezed the opening around his neck. Sam instinctively started to panic at the lack of oxygen. His mouth was wide open, his body squirming and jerking in a disturbing manner as he tried to draw in oxygen.

"STOP IT!" Dean screamed.

"What is your name?!" Marc asked Dean.

"BUTCH! MY NAME IS BU--" The guard behind Dean suddenly pulled down his plastic bag over Dean's head and held it in the same manner as the other did with Sam.

"What is your name?!" Marc asked Sam

"M-Muuuuutt..." Sam wheezed out. He saw the guard giving Dean the same treatment and quickly gulped, trying to wet his throat. "M-Mutt!"

The oxygen in the bag quickly depleted and Dean found his lungs burning. He bucked and jerked, trying to get out of the guards grip and in turn the bag, but the guard held fast. Black dots started to flood Dean's vision as he continued to struggle for air.

The bag suddenly disappeared and Dean gasped for breath, coughing at the sudden abundance of oxygen.

"What is your name?!" Marc asked him again.

This process continued for ten minutes. When Marc finally told the guards to stop, Dean and Sam could barely catch their breath. The position they were hanging in made it even more difficult to draw in air. They were both trembling and tears of distress and desperation stained their cheeks.

"Get them down and send them to work," Marc said tiredly.

---

Sam and Dean were slow at working at first, the constant movement and heavy lifting making it near impossible to catch their breath. They didn't talk to each other, fearing they might pass out. They did bump each other in the side with their elbows or clasp a hand on the other's shoulder at odd times, mostly making sure they were still there and still together.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Because breathing was a chore most the day and they were just too tired, they didn't get into any trouble. Even when some poor shmuck was getting a beating because he paused a second during work to catch a breather, Dean and Sam ignored it, focusing on their own survival.

In the early afternoon, someone new visited the factory. All most every single slave, including the brothers, took a few moments to look at her when she entered with practically a platoon of guards.

She was in her teens, long flowing brunette hair reached down to her hips. She wore a black dress, making her bronze and golden skin flare. Such a gorgeous woman looked so out of place in the filth-ridden factory. Dean found himself wondering who on earth she was.

Sam stiffened next to him. When Dean looked, Sam's face was pale. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared, his eyes were wide and staring straight at the woman.

"Sam?" Dean whispered.

Sam jumped a little before turning back to the crate they were working on. "Wh-what?"

"Do you know that woman?"

Sam quickly shook his head. "Never seen her in my life," he said quickly.

"Hey!" one of the guards yelled. "What are you two doin' chattin'?!"

"Sorry," Dean quickly said. He grabbed Sam's elbow and moved him along. "We're getting right back to work." As soon as they turned their backs.

_WHAP!_

Dean let out a short shout as the whip dug into his back. Already weak, he fell to his knees, the blow knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"Stop it!" Sam shouted.

"Don't turn your backs on me when I'm talking to you, you swine!" the guard growled.

Dean suppressed the need to glare as he slowly got up with Sam's help and faced the guard.

"I catch you two talking again," the guard warned, "I'll stuff you both into solitary confinement."

Sam flinched and trembled a little, but otherwise showed no other sign of fearing the man's words. When the guard turned away, Dean and Sam quickly got to work, neither of them wanting to risk getting in trouble again.

That evening they were back in the shed. Marc had his men did the same thing again, only this time, Marc asked them what the name of the other brother was.

"What's his name?!" Marc asked Dean as they suffocated Sam.

"M-Mutt!" Dean said with what little strength he had. They had been doing this for ten minutes already and Dean felt like he was about to pass out. But he had to stay awake for Sam's sake. Who knows what they'd do to him if Dean passed out and it was his turn to answer.

The plastic bag was shoved over his head again.

Marc kept this up for fifteen more minutes before stopping. He watched with a sick smile as they limply hung there, gasping desperately for breath.

"What is your name?" he asked Dean.

"B...B-Bu-utchhh..." Dean pushed out.

Marc looked at Sam. "What is your name?"

When Sam took a few moments to catch his breath, Marc slapped Sam across the face. "What is your name!?"

"Mmmm-Mu-utt..." Sam choked out.

Marc's smile widened. "Take them back to their cell."

---

Sam and Dean ate the thin soup in silence, leaning heavily on each other for more reasons than one.

When Dean finished his, he carefully set the bowl down and closed his eyes, concentrating on just breathing. His chest hurt from the stress and he was a bit lightheaded. He was barely able to down the phlegm-like soup.

After they were done eating, they just sat there for about twenty minutes, just trying to breath normally and leaning on each other for mutual comfort.

"Hey, Sam," Dean croaked after a while.

"Yeah?" Sam replied, his voice gravely.

"No lies, okay?"

"Okay..." Sam said uncertainly.

"Who was that woman?"

Sam didn't even flinch. He had obviously expected Dean to question him about her. "Her name is Mistress Handerson. Or Mistress Lisa. She's the daughter of the guy who owns this place."

"And you know this how?"

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. "She introduced herself to me." Sam's voice started to tremble. "While you were sick."

"Why?" Dean asked.

Sam bit his lip. "She's like a little girl," Sam said. "Childish and immensely curious."

"Quite beating around the bush and tell me what happened, Sam!"

"She... She was there while I was being beaten. She seemed to find joy in the pain they caused me."

"That bitch...!" Dean cursed.

"It's okay, Dean. It's not like she... d-did anything to me."

Dean frowned at the stutter. "Sam, what'd she do?"

"Nothing," Sam said quickly.

"Sam..." Dean looked Sam directly in the eye, practically willing his brother to tell him the _whole_ truth.

Tears started to brim in Sam's eyes. "I can't tell you," he said sadly.

"Why not?" Dean said a bit forcely.

Sam just shook his head. "I'm fine, Dean. Can we just leave it at that?"

"No! Sam, we are all we've got in here. Who knows when we'll be able to escape so if we can't trust each other with _everything_, how do you think we're going to survive?"

Sam stared at his brother for a few seconds before practically going limp, realizing his brother was right. A single tear fell as he said, "She came later. While I was in that box. At first I was just relieved that the door was open, even if I was still strapped. Then she gave me this... stuff... and I found I couldn't move. I was awake, there, but couldn't move. Then she unstrapped me. As she was doing that, she was telling me how she had to slip the guard to get there. How strict her father was, how religious her father was... She let me fall to the g-ground..." More tears started to fall. "Sh-she un-unbuckled my p-pants..."

Dean sucked a quick breath in through his nose when he realized what happened. "Sam, you can stop now."

Sam slumped over, holding his head in his hands, trying to hide the tears that were flowling freely down his face. "I'm sorry, Dean..."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Dean insisted.

"She kept doing it..." Sam whimpered. "Telling me things, awful things. Doing things a girl her age shouldn't _know _about...!"

Dean could feel red hot rage burning inside him towards the girl. She may just be a teenager, but she's obviously seriously twisted. Dean placed a reassuring hand on Sam's back. "Sam, it's okay."

"It's not okay!" Sam yelled, jumping up and staring at Dean incredulously. "I was _raped_ by a _fifteen-year-old!_ What the hell is okay about that?! I couldn't stop her. She just kept coming and coming and coming..."

"Sam, stop!" Dean stood and grabbed Sam's shoulders. "Getting lost in the nightmare's not going to change it. Or help it."

Sam blinked owlishly at Dean. Then he slowly nodded. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay," Dean said. The lights suddenly shut off. Dean looked towards the general direction of the bed and sighed. "I guess that means we should get some sleep." He started towards the bed, then stopped when he realized Sam wasn't following. "Sam?"

"I-I'll sleep on the floor."

"Sam..."

"No. It's okay." Dean heard Sam shuffling around, then sliding down a wall to the earth.

Dean just stood there for a second. He knew his brother was going to have problems with touching people, but Sam seemed fine about sleeping together the previous night. In fact, he insisted on it. Though he might feel more vulnerable now that he's acknowledged the events.

Wanting to give his brother the space he apparently needed, Dean returned to the bed and laid on his stomach. "'Night, Sammy."

There was no response.

* * *

**Soo... What do you think?**

**I was actually having trouble breathing after I wrote this. I get into my stories waaaay to literally.  
**

**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**This chapter is DARK. Not as graphic or anything as some of my other stories, but it's pretty dark. NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH!**

**Thank you MysteryMadchen for the idea! I hope you like what I've done with it!  
**

**This chapter's a bit shorter than the previous, and it's kinda... RANDOM! But this is where it went in my head so...  
**

**Enjoy chapter seven!  
**

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**Two Days Later**

They were carrying a crate out to the truck. Dean looked around carefully. They're timing had to be just if this was going to work.

They started to walk back. "You ready?" Dean hissed.

Sam nodded in response.

"Go!" They both ran towards the fence.

The guards started to shout. They waved their guns and ran towards them. They started to close in as Sam and Dean reached the fence. They proceeded to climb over and once they got to the other side, they ran as fast as their tired legs could. They didn't take a break until they reached the safety of the woods.

They were both panting heavily, leaning against each other and a tree.

Dean started to laugh. "We're out... We're out, Sam!"

Sam gave Dean a look. "But not out of the woods yet, Dean."

Dean looked around at all the trees surrounding them. "Great observational skills, dude. Anything else you can come up with?"

Sam huffed. "Smartass."

Dean seemed extremely pleased with himself. "C'mon..."

---

Marc swallowed hard before the irate man.

"Escaped!?" Master Handerson yelled. "How did they escape, Marc?!"

"They were extremely fast," Marc said. "And since you gave orders not to shoot any of the slaves..."

"I've had enough of your excuses! GO! FIND THEM! AND MAKE SURE THEY'RE PROPERLY PUNISHED WHEN YOU DO!"

---

The sounds of barking dogs and shouting men could be heard.

"Shit!" Dean cursed. "C'mon, Sam! Break over!"

"C-can't..."

"What do you mean can't!? Sam, they're going to catch us again if we don't go!"

"My b-back..."

Dean frowned. He looked at Sam's back and saw several of the lashes starting to bleed freely. All the running and jumping must have opened them, the chains on their hands and ankles certainly haven't helped. If they continued, he could bleed to death.

"Shit! And we don't know of any civilization nearby..."

"Sorry..." Sam mumbled. "Go on..."

"Screw that!" Dean said. "Its a two man offer!" Dean kneeled in front of his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "They either get us both, or not at all."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

---

Dean had to consciously think about breathing, keeping it even and controlled.

The guards, including Marc, found them and dragged them back to the factory. They were immediately chained up and punished in separate places. While they beat Dean for hours, using chains and other devices, Dean had no idea what they did to Sam. Though it was enough to make him scream so loud that Dean could hear it clearly.

Afterward they put Dean in confinement. Strapping him in and gagging him with a crude, cloth gag. Every once and a while, the door would open, but no light would come in. All was still pitch black dark. A voice would talk to Dean. Talk to him about what they did to his brother.

"Mutt screamed so sweetly when we took the pokers to his ears..." the voice glorified. "Though not as sweetly as when we stripped him and poured boiling water on him. Then freezing... then boiling again." The voice practically giggled. "Then using a tazer... oh... that was fun..."

The first time the voice came, Dean exploded, his leg breaking from it's bonds and kicking the man square in the groin. Other man came and restrained Dean again and when the voice recovered...

"Oh, you'll pay dearly for that, Butch. Your brother's never going to see you again."

When the voice came back later, he had a new story to tell... one that made Dean almost pass out from grief, anger, and guilt.

Then the voice went away, leaving Dean with his anger and anguish. But the voice would always come back. Come back with a new story. One seemingly more horrifying than the last.

After a while, Dean started to wonder if the voice was real, or just in his head.

---

Master Handerson looked at the cellphones the slaves known as Mutt and Butch had on them when they were captured. Handerson knew that he couldn't use those slaves anymore. If it really took this much to break them, then they were a waste of time and resources. Handerson would see to it personally that each of them was completely broken before he contacted someone the slaves knew. Like the 'Bobby' listed on the contacts of both phones.

"Father?" Lisa asked timidly.

"Ah... Lisa." Handerson placed the phones down and pinned his daughter to the bed. "Are you ready to make me feel good again?"

Lisa hid the tear that fell down her face as her father entered her and started to roughly fondle her breasts, not caring how much pain he was causing her. "Yes, Daddy."

---

Bobby approached the abandoned house with caution. He had been looking for the Winchester brothers for over a week now. They disappeared with signs of a struggle. But besides that, there were no signs to as where they were taken. So when Bobby receives a message from one of their cellphones from a stranger's voice, Bobby knew that it must be their kidnapper. But when Bobby tried to trace the phones, they couldn't be found. Bobby can only assume they were destroyed after he received the message or that they were in a dead zone.

The message was clear. The boys he was looking for would be at this location by the next day. Bobby tried to get here sooner so he could see if he could identify the kidnapper, however it would seem that it was too late.

Or it was a trap.

Bobby got out of his truck and made sure he was ready for everything. A shotgun with rock salt, holy water, and a pistol with silver bullets. If the kidnapper happened to be human, the silver bullets would do.

Bobby slowly crept through the old house, cringing with each step as the wood moaned and creaked under him. He checked the ground floor, than the upstairs.

When Bobby descended the stairs to the basement, he could hear ragged breathing and small keens of distress. "Boys?" Bobby asked.

The ragged breathing came to an abrupt stop before starting again, more quickly. The sound of shuffling bodies and the clinking of chains echoed through the basement.

Bobby reached for his flashlight and scanned the basement. When he reached the far corner, he froze. "Oh god..."

Both the boys were naked, covered in injuries. Obvious signs of torture. Sam was curled into a ball smaller than it would seem possible for his body. The soft keens came from him. Dean had his arms protectively wrapped around Sam, rocking him back and forth mechanically. They were both chained securely to the floor

Both had a look of absolute fear and terror in their eyes as they squinted into the sudden light. But while Dean's were normal, if bloodshot, Sam's eyes were a mixture of bloodshot and milky white.

Bobby slowly approached them. "It's okay, boys. It's just me... It's Uncle Bobby..."

The brothers cowered in terror from the approaching figure, pulling on their chains. Sam's keens becoming louder and Dean's rocking becoming more persistent.

Bobby froze. "It's me... Bobby Singer. You used to come to my house a lot when your daddy was away. Remember?"

They remained unchanged except that Sam buried his face into his brother's chest and Dean bowed his head over his brother's in a protective manner.

Bobby steeled himself. He didn't have any other choice. He walked up to the brother's, ignoring their protests and fearful noises, and took out the pistol. He shot the chains and they broke free from the floor. He then secured the gun away and kneeled in front of the terrified men. Bobby placed a hand on Dean's cheek. Dean seemed to be a bit more lucid and more likely to break through. "Dean boy... It's me."

A tear fell down Dean's dirty cheek as he stared fearfully at the older man. Then Dean looked confused, then doubtful. "B-Bo - bee..." Dean croaked out.

Bobby smiled. "That's right, Dean. It's just me."

Dean frowned. "D-De-'n...?"

"That's your name." Bobby pointed to Sam. "And that's your brother, Sam."

Dean squeezed his brother closer to him. "M-Mu-u..." Dean whispered.

Bobby sighed. "Look, I have to get you boys to a hospital." Bobby looked over their body's again, at the extent of the injuries. That's when the fact they were naked hit him. "Stupid...!" he cursed himself. He shed off his jacket and lay it over Dean's body. Sam's was mostly covered by his brother, so there wasn't much more Bobby could do about that. He flipped out his cell and called 911. "My n-nephews... they're hurt. Badly. ... No, they dis-disappeared about a week ago. ... I don't know." Bobby's eyes started to water. "I don't know. Please just get someone here." Without another word he slipped the cell shut.

Dean's attention was on his brother again. He gripped Sam so tightly, Bobby was worried he might break under the pressure, but Sam didn't seem to mind. Dean's face was buried in his brother's matted hair as rocked him back and forth.

Bobby kneeled down again and placed a gentle hand on Dean's head. Dean flinched and cowered a little, but made no other move to remove the hand. "I'm going to get you better boys," Bobby promised. "I'm going to get you better."

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**Okay, I know it must have seemed abrupt, but it's what I came too when writing it. IT'S NOT MY FAULT! BLAME THE HANDS! XD  
**

**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**This chapter contains some sexual abuse innuendos.  
**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!  
**

**Enjoy chapter eight!  
**

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Bobby took off his cap and rubbed the back of his neck. He sat between the two hospital beds containing the Winchester brothers. They were both in restraints and under sedation at the moment.

It was a battle from when the paramedics arrived to when they arrived at the hospital. Dean and Sam absolutely refused to let go of each other, and they had no desire to move from their spot. When the paramedics tried to forcibly move the brothers, Dean snapped and ended up knocking a man unconscious. They had to use Bobby to administer sedatives.

Almost 12 hours later, they were both moved to separate rooms, having been patched up for the time being. Both boys were heavily sedated while the doctors sewed up their lashes and treated Sam's burned and abused body. They were going to wait until Sam and Dean woke to test their eyesight.

Sam woke up first. He was groggy and unaware of his surroundings. Bobby stood over him worriedly, watching Sam's sightless eyes move around in circles. As Sam became more awake, his breathing became more erratic.

"Sam, boy… It's okay, it's just me."

Sam didn't seem to hear him. He jerked on his restraints, his face turning into panic. Bobby placed his hands on Sam's shoulders, hoping to calm Sam down. It was like gasoline to a flame.

"NO!" Sam screamed. He writhed and jerked away from the touch. "PLEASE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASE!"

The doctors had to come in and administer more sedatives. Bobby watched with sadness as Sam started to cry, begging for them to stop, that he'd do what they wanted.

Once Sam was unconscious again, they moved him and Dean into a double room. They hoped that because Dean went through the trauma with him, that Sam would be more responsive to him.

Bobby sighed as he replaced his cap. Dean should be waking up really soon and Bobby wondered what state he would be in. Unlike his brother, Dean was able to recognize and communicate with him before. At least to an extent. Bobby hoped Dean would be able to tell him what happened and who did this to him. Bobby would make sure that they paid.

Dean showed signs of waking about twenty minutes later. At first it was just a change in his breathing pattern. Then he started to squirm.

Bobby got up from his chair and stood by Dean's bed. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and tried to help the man fully wake-up. "C'mon, boy. You need to wake up. C'mon!"

Dean's body felt heavy and surprisingly numb. He felt slow and… _blurry_ as he tried to move and wake up. He heard a voice and for a second he panicked, thinking he was back in the confining box and the voice had come to tell him more about his brother's torture. But the voice wasn't mocking or cold. It was hard and rough, but affectionate. With great effort, he was able to crack his eyes open. He quickly closed them again and groaned as the bright light burned his retinas.

There was the sound of footsteps and a small click. "It's okay, Dean. I turned the light off."

_Dean? Who's that?_ Dean cracked his eyes open again. It was still really bright to him, but better than before. He was slowly able to open his eyes all the way. The fog cleared, and he saw a familiar haggard face hovering above him. "B'bby?"

"Hey, Dean! How you feeling?"

Dean didn't answer. He looked around and croaked out, "Mutt?"

Bobby frowned. "Who's Mutt?"

Dean's breathing quickened. "Mutt?" he called, looking around the hospital room erratically. "Mutt!"

"Dean, calm down or we're going to have to make you sleep again!"

Dean looked at the older man with glassy eyes. Bobby's heart cracked at the shattered look Dean had. Bobby rubbed Dean's arms, trying to keep him calm, when he remembered Dean calling Sam 'Mutt' before.

"Dean, _Sam's_ right here." Bobby pointed to the other bed.

Dean followed the man's arm and looked where he was pointing. He visibly relaxed when he saw his brother. "'S he okay?"

Bobby shook his head. "Not really. Woke up earlier... just panicked."

Dean just continued to stare at Sam, worry tainting his usually stoic features. "'S he okay?" he asked again.

Bobby sighed. "Do you wanna see him?"

Dean nodded vigorously. He wanted nothing more than to keep his little brother as close as possible for the rest of his life.

Bobby bent down and undid Dean's restraints. He then helped Dean over to Sam's bed.

Dean promptly climbed up on the bed and curled his body around Sam's, being careful of the wounds and the wires connected to him. He softly stroked Sam's face, like he halfheartedly trying to get him to wake up.

"Sam should be waking up in an hour or so," Bobby said.

Dean paid the older man no heed as he closed his eyes and rested his head next to his brother's.

---

Bobby had called in the doctor to look at Dean. The doctor left the lights off as he tested a surprisingly compliant Dean. They doctor let him stay on the bed with his brother as he tested his eyesight. When he was done, Dean closed his eyes and went back to resting next to Sam. The doctor told Bobby that Dean's sensitivity to light was mostly likely from a lack of exposure in recent days and will probably go a way in a week or so.

When Sam woke up, while he was still agitated, he was much calmer than before. He merely curled into Dean's embrace, his sightless eyes still darting everywhere. No words were passed between them, just physical comfort.

The problems came when the doctor tried to test Sam's sight. Dean didn't let anyone but Bobby near his brother, but even Sam recoiled from Bobby. The doctor finally called security to forcibly separate Sam and Dean. Dean struggled, bit, and kicked the security personnel, but they managed to hold him fast. Another guard held Sam down as the doctor inspected his eyes and the reactions. Sam's eyes were wide and darting impossibly fast, trying to figure out the situation. He was stiff from fright under the guard's grip as the doctor inspected him. The doctor got a little annoyed when Sam ignored everything he told the young man to do, but knew it was because of the trauma. Still, that didn't make it less frustrating for him.

After he was done, Dean and Sam were released and Dean practically dove for his terrified brother, holding him close and rocking him back and forth for not only Sam's benefit but his own. Sam lay his head against his brother's chest, too terrified to do anything except be with his brother.

When they events of the day caught up with them and they fell asleep, their doctor asked Bobby if he could speak with him privately.

They were in his office, the doctor, named Hannity, finishing the final notes on his report. When he was finished, he closed the file and looked at the older man in front of him. "This isn't going to be easy, Mr. Singer..."

"Bobby. And I know."

"Authorities are searching for the perpetrators, but so far they've come up empty handed."

_As usual_, Bobby thought.

"But that's not my concern. My concern is your nephews. Physically, their wounds, although numerous, are not life-threatening. However, Sam's blindness might be life-changing."

"'Might be'?"

"There's a possibility that with laser eye surgery and time that he could gain his sight back. Though chances are slim." Bobby nodded. "Mentally, on the other hand, both are severely traumatized. It doesn't take a doctor to see that they've been tortured beyond reason. I've noticed that Dean doesn't respond to his name and he calls Sam 'Mutt.' It's not uncommon for torturers to label their victims in a way of claiming them as their own."

"As interesting as this might be to you, Dr. Hannity," Bobby growled, "I'm more interested in just how they might recover."

Dr. Hannity sighed. "Time. Mostly. Therapy too, but I doubt it'll make a difference, at least at first. Mr. Sing -- Bobby. I think it might be in their best interest if you have them committed..."

"Out of the question."

"They would get the best care there. I would make sure that Sam and Dean could stay together at all times. As I said before, time is going to be the most effective cure. Not only were they tortured physically and mentally, but sexually too."

The blood drained out of Bobby's face. "Are you saying they were raped!?"

"They were both _abused _sexually. There isn't been any evidence of penetration on either of them, but there were some significant bruises around both of their groins. Especially Sam's. That's why they need to be in an environment they can act freely in."

"You call a locked ward 'freely?!'" Bobby yelled.

"They'd be able to do practically whatever they'd like. I'm sure they're going to want to regain some semblance of control, since they've lost nearly all of it in the last week. Also, we'd place both of them in a training class so that they can communicate and move around Sam's blindness. And from the looks of those two, I'm guessing that Dean is going to want to help Sam in anyway he can. And he'll be able to if you commit them here."

"They should be back home," Bobby said. "They should be some place that's familiar."

"And what exactly would you do? Just feed them and try to talk to them? They might just shut themselves off from you because of the obvious closeness you have with them. And they won't have anything to actually _do _to show that they control themselves_._ And how exactly do you plan to cope with Sam's blindness?"

Bobby sighed. The doctor's argument was starting to become compelling. "One week," he said after consideration. "If they're not showing any improvement, I'm taking them home with me."

Dr. Hannity nodded. "At the moment, that's all I can ask for."

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**Again, this is turning into a difficult fic to write, so all feed back is MUCH APPRECIATED!  
**

**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.**

**OMG! This is a link to the next episode's promo! (So if you haven't seen through 4x14 or you don't want to know ANYTHING about the future epis, then don't watch) But it's a seriously AWESOME promo! **

**www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=OgVAM-PpMPU&feature=email**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!**

**BTW... there was an anonymous reviewer called _angel _who said I was basing this story off of another story called Commodities from Sinful Desire and they seemed a little pissed. I have no idea what Commodities from Sinful Desire is about, however this story is based off of a story I wrote a while back. I wrote another slave story called Definition of a Human and wanted to see if I could write a better slave story. Which is why I started this fic. So please don't accuse me of stealing ideas.  
**

**Enjoy chapter nine!  
**

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Bobby watched the boys through a one-way glass mirror. "Are you sure?" Bobby asked.

Dr. Hannity nodded. "I'm sorry. There's no mistake."

Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head. "As if they didn't have enough problems..."

Dr. Hannity watched his patients through the glass. They didn't do much beyond stay in each other's embrace, curled in the corner of the padded room.

"The good news..." the doctor said, "Is that Dean's calling Sam by his real name. He still doesn't react to his own but... progress is progress."

Bobby just nodded, not taking his eyes off the brothers. "Can I see them?"

"Sure."

---

"B-Butch?" Sam whispered.

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair, letting Sam know that he was listening.

"Y-you h-h-here...?"

Dean gently grabbed one of Sam's hands and lifted it towards his face. Sam's fingers explored the familiar features, feeling the rough beard that was starting to grow. Tears started to form in Sam's eyes. "Wh-what 'm I gunna do...?" he whispered. The tears slipped silently down his face. "I'm about... about as useful as a r-rag doll..."

Dean leaned his forehead against Sam's and shook his head so Sam could feel it, gently rubbing Sam's arms in reassurance.

"C-can't save you..." Sam said softly. "Y-your gunna go... an' I'm not gunna know. Won't s-see, won't h-h-hear... Won't know."

Dean continued to shake his head against Sam's, his own tears starting to fall down his face.

The door to the padded room opened and Bobby and the doctor walked in. Dean immediately tensed and wrapped his arms securely around Sam. Sam completely froze in reaction to Dean. He then felt the small vibrations coming from the floor. Someone was walking towards them. Sam buried himself into Dean, letting his brother protect him. He was a little ashamed how much like a little boy he was acting, but he was just plain terrified. Being blind and deaf, he had no way to defend himself or his brother.

"Hey, boys," Bobby said.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said quietly.

"How are you two doing?"

Dean shrugged. "Talking."

Bobby nodded.

Dean looked over at the doctor, then back at Bobby, trying to convey his message.

Bobby nodded. "Hey, doc. Could you give us a few minutes alone?"

Dr. Hannity looked uncertain, not knowing if Dean would go violent or not. Though Bobby seemed to be the only person Dean wasn't hostile with besides his brother. "Alright. I'll be back in a few."

Once the doctor was gone, Bobby stepped up and knelt in front of the boys. Dean seemed perfectly fine with it, but Sam mewls just got louder.

Bobby sighed. "Did you want to say something, Dean?"

Dean frowned at the name, but quickly shook it off. He looked around hesitantly, like someone might be watching them. "We can't stay here, Bobby."

Bobby blinked at this. He was in total agreement with Dean, but he didn't really expect Dean to really have an opinion. _Boy's recovering faster than you gave him credit for._

"Doctors can't do anything..." Dean continued. "Sam just freaks and all I need is to take care of him. You can take care of the physical stuff."

Bobby nodded, but suddenly very worried. He knew that Dr. Hannity would be watching and listening to this. Bobby just hoped Dr. Hannity would be reasonable. If not, Bobby would remove the Winchester brother's by force.

Hoping to get Dean to open up a little more, "How's Sam?"

Dean looked down at his brother who was holding onto Dean like a lifeline. Though, that's probably exactly what Dean was now.

"Doesn't understand..." Dean mumbled. "Might never understand..."

Bobby silently cursed himself as he remembered what the doctor said. According to him, Sam's sight and hearing might recover, but only if they perform surgery.

_If they perform surgery_.

"Dean," Bobby said, "I don't think I can take you outta here."

Dean's head shot up. "Why?"

"There's a chance that Sam could regain his sight and hearing if he goes into surgery."

Dean shook his head hard. "'A chance.' That's not good enough. Sam won't understand. Besides, we can't afford it. There has to be another way. Sam won't understand..."

Bobby sighed. He looked over the two men he considered to be his sons. Despite Dean's bravado, Bobby could tell he was terrified. And Sam... well, there wasn't really much more that could make him _worse..._

"Alright. I'll get you outta here."

---

It was surprisingly easy to get the Winchesters out of the hospitals. All it took was some good conning and two 'bodies' to transfer to another hospital's morgue for analysis.

Bobby was able to carry both of the unconscious men to his car and drive them quickly to his place. They were still out when he arrived at Singer Salvage.

Dean was the first to become conscious. When Bobby came into their room, Dean was curled around Sam's body, his head resting against his brother's. "Dean?"

Dean flinched and turned his attention towards Bobby. He gave a small smile. "We're out..."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. We're out." He walked in the room and sat on the bed Dean was previously unconscious in. Dean sat up, keeping a hand on his brother at all times. "Dean..." Bobby started. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Dean looked down at his lap. He knew this was coming. But he didn't want Bobby going all gun-ho after the Handersons. There was no way Bobby could do anything about them. Dean was pretty sure that the only reason he and Sam were released was because they thought the brothers were no longer a threat. "You can't do anything, Bobby..."

"Hell with that!" Bobby said. "There ain't a single soul that can't be tracked."

"That's not the problem," Dean said quietly.

"Then what is?"

Dean looked at the old friend. Bobby looked at him with worry and a hint of desperation. Dean shook his head. "It's not one person. Or two. Or three. Or even a small group. This was an _organization_. A _factory_."

"A factory of what?"

Dean sighed. "Guns. Weapons. Anything you can imagine. It's _huge_. Acres upon acres for nothing but this _assembly line_..."

Bobby frowned and shook his head. "That's not possible. Any building or organization that of caliber would have the government on their tail in no seconds flat..."

Dean sagged. "What? You don't believe me?"

"No! It's just..."

"They're run by a family called Handerson. I wouldn't be surprised if the government was _protecting_ them."

Bobby took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "What were you doing there?"

Dean gave a humorless laugh. "We were slaves. Along with hundreds of others."

"How did you get out?"

Dean's eyes started to get a little glassy. "We didn't. We couldn't be broken right. So they just broke us so we wouldn't make any trouble. Before getting rid of us."

Bobby blew out a breath. "Jesus..."

A sudden rustling broke Dean and Bobby out of their conversation. Sam was squirming, his eyes screwed shut and his white fists clenching the sheets. "No..."

Dean immediately placed a hand on his brother's cheek, gently stroking it. He jerked away, however, when Sam cried out in fear. "Sam, it's just me!" Dean said.

"Please don't touch me!" Sam cried. "Please stop! Where's Butch!? Butch! Don't leave, please!"

"Sam!" Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook his hard. "Sam, WAKE UP!"

Sam's grew eyes flew open. At first he fought against the arms holding him until the smell of Dean registered. Sam launched himself into Dean's arms, sobbing heavily. "Please don't leave...!"

"I'm not going anywhere..." Dean assured, rocking his brother back and forth.

"Don't leave..." Sam whimpered. "Lost... lost in the dark..." He held on to Dean's shirt tightly, fearing that if he let go, he might never find him again.

Bobby silently left the room, leaving Dean to tend to his brother. He blew out a long breath. It was so damn hard to see Sam so broken and Dean so defeated. Oh, Dean was trying to put a brave front up, but when Sam was conscious, all his defenses came crashing down, leaving the raw and fragile Dean that those weapon manufacturers created.

Bobby picked up the phone and dialed. He waited a few seconds until the other end was answered. "Caleb? Hey, I need to ask a favor. Look into a family called Handerson. Don't do anything, just research them. And while your at it, look for cures for blindness and deafness. Come over as soon as you got anything. I'll explain everything then."

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**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.**

**I hope you guys are pleased so far... remember to tell me EVERYTHING!**

**The next ep of SPN is in 10 more days!**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YESTERDAY, JENSEN!  
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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!**

**Okay... Just setting the record straight here. If you don't believe me, that's your problem. I first read Commodities about a week or so ago when the author of that story kept bitching to me how I stole her story. First off, ew. I hate wincest and the slavery part in the story is just... My sexual torture doesn't really go that far in ANY of my fics. And second, I really never stole any of Circe's ideas. As I said before, this is me redoing a slave fic because I thought Definition of a Human could have been better.**

**Now, without further ado...  
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**Enjoy chapter ten!  
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Sam sat on the bed, his legs drawn up close and his head pillowed in his knees. He listened hard for any noises; the cars going by, the creaks of the floorboards… there were so many sounds in the world Sam wasn't even aware of until he lost them. All he heard now was his own heavy breathing.

His sight wasn't any better off. The last thing he saw was a hot poker advancing all too fast towards his eye. The rest of the action had been obscured by the sudden, automatic tears that had formed.

Sam moved his head side to side, as if trying to see around him. But there was nothing. He felt like he was moving in a dark fog. Nothing to anchor him except the objects he felt.

He didn't try too hard to see or hear anything; any effort to do so always ended in a large headache.

The bed suddenly dipped and Sam launched himself back against the headboard. He tried to tell whatever it was to stay away. He wished he could at least hear his own voice to make sure he was talking properly.

A hand rest on his shoulder and Sam flinched away. Now he just tried to stay still. They never hurt him as badly if he didn't struggle.

But the hand didn't hurt him. Arms were slowly wrapped around his trembling body, and Sam finally relaxed when he smelled the familiar smokey leather. Sam tried to say 'Butch' to let him know that he realized who it was, but, again, he had no idea whether Butch heard him or not. So he was satisfied with just resting in his brother's arms, his body and mind completely relaxing. If only momentarily.

---

Caleb drove towards Singer Salvage with the research Bobby requested. He was still completely in the dark about why Bobby wanted with stuff.

As far as Caleb could ascertain, the Handerson's are pretty normal. They're rich, no doubt. Probably snooty, self-absorbed, and completely oblivious to everything around them, but there was nothing to suggest anything unusual. They did, however, have connections in high places, so it's possible some things could be covered up.

And then there was Bobby's request for cures for blindness and deafness… Why on earth would Bobby want that? Since the old man didn't give him any details, Caleb researched everything natural, supernatural, and just plain strange about blindness and deafness. Caleb didn't really know what to think about all of it. He assumed Bobby had a pretty damn good reason for asking.

He pulled up to Singer Salvage and was surprised to see the familiar '67 Chevy Impala. What surprised Caleb even more was how dirty it looked. It was so unlike Dean to just leave the Impala so unattended.

Caleb gathered up the research and got out of his car. The door to the house opened and Bobby came out. "'Bout time ya got here, ya idjit..."

Caleb frowned at Bobby's tone of voice. "Singer, what the hell is going on?"

Bobby took a bit out of Caleb's over flowing arms. "Jus' come inside and I'll explain."

---

Caleb looked up the stairs towards the room he knew Sam and Dean were in. "Jesus Christ..."

Bobby scoffed. "Kinda unbelievable, ain't it?"

Caleb looked at Bobby disbelievingly. "A _gun factory_!? Run by a family, protected by the _government_... " Caleb shook his head. "This is huge. Like, we-can't-do-anything-about-it huge."

Bobby shook his head. "But if they're doing what they did to Sam and Dean to hundreds of others..."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? I admit, it's horrible. But it's not exactly our area of expertise. Nor can we take on an _entire_ organization!" He closed his eyes. "You realize we probably use guns made by these people."

Bobby nodded. "That thought had occurred to me."

Caleb pulled his pistol out and looked at it. "Kinda puts these things in a new perspective, doesn't it?"

"Forget it," Bobby said. "Before we do anything, we gotta help those boys."

"Agreed." Caleb pulled out his research. "This is everything I could find on causes and cures for blindness and deafness."

Bobby pulled the research towards him and started looking through it.

"You wanna go 'normal'? You need to get him to a hospital soon, before the scar tissues heals the way it is. If it's done in time, a surgery can at least make his hearing and sight better than it is. Or there are some surgery's (that are very expensive, by the way) that puts a device in your skull that makes sound waves go directly to your brain. Though I don't know how we'd arrange for something like that..."

"What if we don't wanna go 'normal'?" Bobby asked.

Caleb sighed. "Well, there are spells we can do. None of them really actually heal the scar tissue or restore hearing and sight. But some of the spells I found affect brainwaves and how the mind receives certain signals and so forth. And I found some others that produce glamors, hiding scars and such. We can use those to make Sam look mostly normal. We wouldn't want to use it to hide _all_ they're scars. That takes the more heavy duty spells, which are more dangerous."

Bobby sighed. "I'll look through these, see what our best options are."

Caleb looked at the staircase again. "Can I see them? I haven't seen them since they were teens."

Bobby followed Caleb's gaze. "Sure. Just be extremely _passive_. Dean can go violent if he thinks you're a threat."

Caleb smiled. "He was like that before."

Bobby returned the smile. "True, but now he's more likely to _think_ your a threat."

Caleb nodded. "I'll be careful."

---

Dean sat on the bed with his brother, his arms wrapped around Sam's too thin body and his cheek resting on top his brother's head. Dean slowly rocked back and forth, the movement calming Sam down.

As the door creaked open, Dean's head snapped up and his entire body tensed, Sam's immediately following suit. Caleb slowly walked in, repressing any reaction to the state the brother's were in. "Hey, guys."

"Caleb?" Dean said surprised. "What're you doing here?"

"Just helping Bobby with some research..." Caleb's eyes diverted to Sam's shaking form. "I heard what happened."

Dean's eyes glazed over in response. "Bobby told you," he stated.

Caleb nodded.

Sam kept his head buried in his brother's chest. He knew someone was in the room. He could feel Dean talking to whoever it was. All Sam wanted was for whoever it was to just go away, go away and leave Sam alone with his brother. Sam pulled his head slightly out of Dean's chest to tell whoever it was to do just that.

"...found possible cures for Sam."

Dean eyes narrowed. "Do you think -- ?"

"NO!"

Sam launched himself backwards, knocking Dean onto the floor in the process. Sam's sightless eyes were wide and fearful, and staring directly at Caleb.

Caleb frowned at Sam's behavior. "Sam..." He took a step forward.

"Stay away from me!" Sam said panicked.

"Sam...!" Dean quickly got back up and grabbed Sam's arms.

Sam eyes momentarily swerved to stare in Dean's approximate location before gluing themselves to Caleb again. "Can't you see it?!" Sam yelled at Dean. "Butch, _please_...! Make it go away!"

Dean's hands gripped Sam's arms randomly, the lack of communication between them making Dean start to panic. "Sam..." Dean whimpered.

Caleb stepped up behind Dean. "Maybe I can..."

"Stay away!" Sam screamed as he desperately grabbed Dean's shirt and pulled him away from the older man.

Caleb frowned at Sam's reaction. "Sam, it's okay..."

Tears started to fall down Sam's face. "What's going on...?" He whimpered. "WHAT'S GOING ON!?"

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**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.**

**I hope you guys are pleased so far... remember to tell me EVERYTHING!**

**The next ep of SPN is Tonight!**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!**

**I'm sorry, this chappy's kinda short, but I thought it was an okay place to end it so...**

**Enjoy chapter eleven!  
**

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Hearing Sam's distress, Bobby burst into the bedroom, armed with holy water and a shotgun. "What the blazes is going on?!" Bobby yelled when he saw no enemy.

"I-I dunno…" Dean whimpered as he tried to calm his brother down. Sam was desperately pushing his brother away, crying that he needed to get away. "He just saw Caleb and - "

"'Saw' Caleb!?" Bobby said. "What do you mean 'saw?!'"

"Hey! Don't look at me, man!" Caleb said. "I got no clue."

"Butch…!" Sam whimpered. "You need to run…" Sam pointed directly at Caleb. "He… He…"

Bobby frowned. _No way…_ Bobby opened the bottle of holy water and flung it at Caleb.

"AHH!" Caleb screamed as the water burned his skin. "You BASTARD!"

"He's possessed?!" Dean cried. He pushed Sam back and stood directed between him and Caleb, automatically switching to hyper-protective mode.

Bobby continued to spray Caleb with the holy water until Caleb was backed up into a corner. "What the hell is filth like you doing here?"

Caleb tried to flick Bobby across the room, but nothing happened. He looked up and sighed when he saw the Devil's Trap etched on the ceiling. "What?" he laughed, his eyes flashing black. "I can't just have a little fun?"

Bobby flicked more holy water, making Caleb growl. "You can tell me, or I can just send you to hell."

Caleb's smile faltered. "I'm following orders."

Sam gasped and quickly covered his ears, as if trying to block an unpleasant sound.

Bobby frowned before turning back to Caleb. "Who's orders?"

Caleb chuckled. "Your mother's."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Fine." Bobby whipped out his exorcism book and began to read.

"Wait!" Caleb yelled. "It was Lilith!"

Bobby and Dean froze while Sam shook. "Make it stop…" he whimpered.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, never turning his back on the demon. He placed a hand on Sam's head before shooting a deadly glare.

"Why?" Bobby growled.

Caleb laughed. He nodded his head towards Sam and said, "Last I checked, she wanted the brat dead."

Sam's head suddenly shot up and his sightless eyes settled on Caleb again. "You're lying…" he whispered.

Caleb stiffened. "The hell's that kid spewing?"

Sam took his hands off his ears, realization spreading across his face. "Tell the truth."

"I _am, _you meatbag!"

Sam shook his head. "No… nothing you've said is true."

Caleb gave Sam a look of disbelief. "What the hell…? AHH!"

Bobby flicked more holy water at the demon. "I suggest you tell the truth, son."

"How the freaking hell does _he _know I'm lying?! Last I checked he can't even hear me!"

Sam flinched. "Last I checked…" Sam mumbled, "I can."

Caleb's eyes flickered between the three hunters before he sighed. "Look, I came here to kill Winchester. God's honest truth."

Sam frowned. "Not me... Dean?"

Dean sat up at this. "Hmm. First time's a demon's targeted me _specifically_. (Well besides Meg, but _she_ had a decent reason...)"

Caleb growled. "I wanted to kill you..." he said slowly, "because I'm getting impatient."

Dean gave a humorless laugh. "I'm guess some old friends of mine are anxious for me to get to hell already."

Caleb gave a twisted smile. "You have no idea."

Sam's breathing became increasingly labored. Only being able to hear one side of the conversation was frustrating and Sam was starting to feel a bit _too _handicapped. "I've had enough..." he whispered. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica..."_

"NO!" Caleb yelled. He started to twitch and jerk in grotesque and impossible ways before his head shot back and a column of smoke erupted from his mouth before dissipating and going to hell.

---

Bobby quietly closed the door behind him. Dean was standing at the end of the hall, looking hesitant. Bobby sighed as he forced himself forward.

"How is he?" Dean asked quietly when Bobby reached him.

"He's damn exhausted, but he'll live. Still don't see how he let a demon get the jump on him... How's Sam?"

Dean shrugged. "Tired, too. I don't think he knows what to make of everything. He's not responding to me at all. Not when I touch him or give him food..."

"I have to admit..." Bobby said. "It's a little disconcerting that Sam could see and hear that damn demon... he could even tell when it was lying..."

Dean shot Bobby a glare. "He's my brother."

"Hey, I'm not saying anything like that!" Bobby shot back, not liking what Dean was assuming. "I'm just saying... if... _when_... we get Sam's sight and hearing back, will he still be able to see and hear demons apart from humans?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know and I don't care."

Bobby nodded. He could tell that Dean was also tired and he didn't blame him. Hell, he was tired too! "Why don't you go look after your brother. I gotta double check all of Caleb's research and make sure it ain't corrupt or anything."

Dean nodded distractedly. "Alright."

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**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.**

**I hope you guys are pleased so far... remember to tell me EVERYTHING!**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!**

**I'm sorry, this chappy's kinda short, but I thought this was a good place to end it...**

**In case people haven't really noticed, dialogue is my strong point in story writing. And this chapter has NO DIALOGUE! So I'm not sure how good the actual writing is or even if it makes sense, so please review and tell me how I'm doing with this... this is SOOO not my strong suit...**

**BTW!! There's a poll on my profile, asking about me writing a new story. Basically asking what story you want me to write. I would LOVE it if you all went ahead and gave your input. And if YOU'VE ALREADY VOTED, you might want to look at it again because I added a fifth option. just PM me if you want to change any of your votes.  
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**Enjoy chapter twelve!  
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Sam was curled on the bed again, but this time he looked around the room with a purpose. If he _could_ see anything, that means that something is _very_ wrong.

Of course, that's not the only thing that's completely wrong. Sam thought he was rid of these powers after Azazel was killed. But apparently not. And now Sam was on edge. What would happen if he had a vision? He was pretty helpless before when they hit, but now he'd be completely helpless and completely at the mercy of any evil supernatural bastard that came by. Even if he had a vision, what could he do about it? He wouldn't be able to help save the people. What if…?

A warm hand was placed on his shoulder and Sam stiffened. He knew who it was and quickly shrugged the hand off. Why did Dean want to touch him? He was there, wasn't he? He saw what happened with the demon? Why on earth does Dean want to be anywhere near him? Sam felt dirty just _knowing_ what he was and could do. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Dean, to have your brother be this _monster_...

The warm hand was back, resting on his chest, and quickly joined by an arm around his shoulders and and a hand on his head. Sam started to shake hard, trying desperately not to cry. Crying would just make Dean want to stay and comfort him because he's _Dean._ But Sam couldn't allow that to happen. Dean needed to just get away from him, from his weak, pathetic, freakish self. But he just couldn't make himself push his brother's comforting arms away.

Sam brought his hands up to his face as he started to sob. He sobbed at his weakness, at Dean's burden, and at the _fucking deal_ that Dean's doomed to be submitted to. How long does he have left? Six months? Three months? Two weeks? Sam doubted that Dean even knew. And here he was, wasting what little time he had left, taking care of a helpless freak. That same freak who promised him that he would find a way out of the deal. What kind of brother was Sam, to let Dean just stay here? He should be pushing Dean away, screaming at him, _hitting_ him, telling him to leave and live out the rest of his life.

More than once since their 'escape' Sam had considered running away. He knew he wouldn't get far, but with any luck, he might get far away enough for Dean to realize he would be so much better off without him. Bobby can do the research to save Dean. He can probably do it better than Sam anyway. Especially since he can't even _see_.

Maybe that's exactly what he'll do. Run away. Leave the house, carefully guide himself through the junkyard and run as fast as he can. Dean would forget him and concentrate on freeing himself from that damned deal. Even if the demon was completely serious when she said that Sam would die if Dean tried to welch his way out, if Sam would just leave, Dean could do whatever without having to worry about him.

Sam tried hard to ignore the part of him that was screaming 'no! That's not what Dean wants and it's not what _you_ want!' It didn't matter. That is what was best for _Dean_. After a lifetime of self-sacrificing on Dean's part, it was about damn time Sam did some self-sacrificing of his own.

---

Dean just sat there, arm around Sam's shoulders and hand resting on Sam's head. He had his other hand resting just over Sam's heart and his head resting on his shoulder. Sam struggled half-heartedly to get away but it wasn't long before Sam broke down in his arms

Dean slowly rocked his brother, slowly carding his fingers through his hair and trying to project the most comforting feelings he could muster, but nothing seemed to calm Sam down.

He felt so damn _helpless_, standing by his brother, who could neither hear nor see and therefore could not communicate, as he continued tortured himself for pointless things. More than anything, he just wanted to jump into Sam's head so they could talk, so Dean could set him straight, because if Dean knew his brother, Sam was blaming himself for most everything that's happened.

He knew Bobby was working on curing Sam of his ailments, but Dean wanted Sam to be cured _right now!_ The more Sam stewed on his own thoughts and self-recriminations, the harder it would be to convince Sam otherwise. He was sure that Sam was torturing himself about the deal, and the torture, and the fact he can see and hear demons. And he was sure Sam was applying all these thoughts to the 'what must Dean think of me' category.

Dean just hoped him being here, comforting Sam, not leaving his side, was enough to convey his message loud and clear.

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**Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.**

**Remember to take my POLL on my PROFILE!  
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	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!**

**This was one of those chapter where my fingers wrote it themselves and I was kinda on the side... the events of this chapter have a bittersweet taste to them**

**WARNING: mention of sexual assault  
**

**Enjoy chapter thirteen!  
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Sam carefully placed a hand on Dean's chest. He could feel the even breathing and knew that his brother was asleep. Moving as slowly as he could, he got up from the bed and slowly walked out of the bedroom. Sam knew Bobby's place like the back of his hand, with a few touches, he could easily navigate himself around the house.

When he reached the front door, he gripped the knob and took a deep breath. _This is for Dean's good._ He opened the door, and left.

---

Dean moaned as he came back to consciousness. His body still ached from the remains of the torture every now and then.

But Dean was reasonably happy this morning. He talked to Bobby the night before and they were pretty sure they could restore his sight. Well, restore it in a way.

According to Bobby, the spell would let Sam be able to know the visual of his surroundings. So his eyes would still be just as damaged as before, but he could 'see' just as well as any other person because the 'imprint' so to speak, of his surroundings would go directly to his brain.

Although with good news came bad. As of last night, Caleb had still not woken up and Bobby couldn't figure out what was wrong. Caleb seemed fine, physically. Bobby is assuming the demon did something to him, and is working hard to figure out what.

Dean stretched in his bed and opened his eyes. He was hoping to do the spell today, that way he could start at least _trying_ to communicate in some reasonable way with Sam. Dean turned to Sam's bed and froze.

"Sam?"

The bed was empty. The blankets and sheets were disarrayed and had been slept in, but Sam wasn't there.

_Maybe he's just downstairs..._ Dean thought. He flung his covers back, checked the bathroom, just to make sure, and quickly went downstairs.

Bobby was in the kitchen, making breakfast. He smiled when Dean came in, though that smile quickly faded. "Dean?"

"Where's Sam?"

Bobby placed the pan down. "Why?"

"He's not in our room, or the bathroom." Dean didn't wait for a response as he ran around the house, shouting Sam's name.

"Dammit, boy!" Bobby yelled. "Yelling's not really gonna do any good, is it?!"

Dean stopped in his tracks. "He's gone... Bobby, Sam's gone!"

---

Sam tried to use the memories he had of the town to walk around in it, but unfortunately, those memories were fuzzy, and every time he ran into something, or something ran into him, he got lost. He wasn't wearing any shoes and his feet were blistering. Occasionally someone would help him across a street or around a certain object. Other times someone would just shove or hit him away. But Sam would just get up, and keep walking.

He had both hands on the side of a brick building, carefully guiding himself around it's corner and into what Sam assumed was an alleyway. However after a few steps in he bumped into a person.

"Sorry," he mumbled and tried to walk around the person, but he just bumped into another one.

All of a sudden, his arms were grabbed and pinned behind him. "I'm s-sorry...!" he tried to yell. "I can't hear you! I can't see you! Please just leave me alone!" he cried.

He felt a chain being wrapped around his neck, and knew that these people didn't care.

---

"And where exactly are you gonna look!" Bobby yelled. "The town's huge! He could be anywhere!"

"He's blind and deaf!" Dean growled as he pulled on his boots. "I'll look where a person like that would go."

Bobby frowned. "Whaddya mean?"

"There's only one way Sam could get around. By touch." Dean grabbed his jacket and opened the door. "You try and do that spell. If you can get it done, at least Sam might be able to help himself." With this, Dean left.

Bobby slammed a fist against the table. "Goddammit..."

---

Sam knelt on the ground, shaking hard. He could feel the blood flowing freely out of his mouth and the several cuts that covered him. He must have some pissed off some pretty ornery people...

He had no idea how much had passed. All he knew was that he didn't care anymore. His body was numb to the abuse. He barely felt the chain when they yanked it and he fell over, a harsh coughing fit incited by the abuse. More blood came out of his mouth and his head felt light. He had lost too much blood.

They continued to beat him, this time with the chain itself. He grunted and jerked with each blow, but had no other reaction.

He didn't change or react, until they stopped. He sagged in his position, relieved that they were done.

But they weren't.

Someone gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him into sitting position. Sam hissed as the rough treatment jarred his abused body. "Please..." he begged.

A hand gripped the sides of his face tightly, forcing his mouth to open. Sam screamed and started to struggle. More hands held him down, making him practically immobile.

Something long, warm, and fleshy was thrust into his mouth and Sam knew without a doubt, that he was being gang-raped.

---

Dean ran around town furiously, asking if people had seen his brother. Those who had couldn't offer much. It seems that Sam just choose a direction and went. And was often turned around. He seemed to have just been randomly wandering around town.

It had been an hour, and there was no sign of his brother. He struck the side of a brick building with his fist. He sighed. He had to find Sam. He didn't know what was going through his brother's head right now, but he had to find him and set him right, _fast_!

---

Sam lay shaking on the cold, hard ground. He was wearing nothing but his shirt, everything else having been stripped off of him for the pleasure of some sick fucks who knew that they could get away with assaulting a man who could in no way identify his attackers. Sam knew at least three people used him, and more than once. It was almost worse than what the people at that gun factory did to him.

_This_ was why Sam left. He couldn't even fight off a group of regular _humans. _What good was he to his brother, now? Maybe this was all Sam was good for now. Being walked over by the passing world. If he was lucky, maybe he could find someway to live off it. _Whore..._ yeah... maybe that's how Sam could live now. That's all that he seemed to be good for now. But instead of money, maybe he could just ask for food...

Sam gasped as white hot pain shot through his head. He screwed his eyes shut and grasped his head. It felt as though someone was crushing his brain from the inside out.

Then, as soon as it was there, it was gone. Sam's harsh breathing went back down to normal and he opened his eyes again.

Sam practically jumped when he saw the wall opposite of him. _SAW!_ Sam managed to get his shaking body to sit up as he looked around in wonder at everything around him. Tears welled in his eyes. He never thought the sight of a dank alley filled with garbage and the temporary weapons of torture strewn around him.

He saw his boxers a few feet away and managed to crawl his way towards them. He gingerly pulled them back up his legs and instantly felt better now that he was covered.

This didn't change his plan. He still planned on staying far away from Dean as possible. And now that he could see, it would be even easier to do so. And now he even found a way to live...

He sighed and lay back on the ground, his body suddenly very tired...

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	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: haha! I wish...**

**Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!**

**This chapter is pretty short, but I thought it was a good place to leave ya :D**

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**Enjoy chapter fourteen!  
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Dean ran through the town, checking every store, every corner, every alley, trying to find his lost brother. He only hoped that the spell worked and Sam could at least see his surroundings.

Or maybe that would be a bad thing. Then it would be even easier for Sam to leave and stay gone.

_Please Sam... We need to talk! Communicate... make my message loud and freaking clear!_

---

Sam was awake again and sitting in the corner of the alley. He couldn't stop freaking _shaking..._

He knew he needed to go to the hospital. He could feel internal bleeding and he was sure he had several broken bones. But it just hurt so much to _move._ His torso felt heavy and dull with pain unless he moved, in which case his chest cavity felt like lava was flowing through him.

So he couldn't move, and no one passing by was willing to give a damn to check on his condition.

_Of course, who would want to help a whore like me..._

---

"Are you alright?"

Sam slowly lifted his head from his chest and looked up with swollen eyes.

A small girl of about ten or eleven was standing in front of him with curious eyes. Sam licked his lips and slowly shook his head. _Get away, little girl... don't taint yourself with me!_

The girl frowned. "What happened?" She had a cute little Spanish accent.

Sam just shook his head again and lowered his head back down.

"What's this stuff all over your face...?" She leaned forward and touched the white viscous fluid.

Sam flinched backwards from the touch. "No..." _Don't touch me! Please don't touch, you're so nice..._

"Maria!"

woman, presumably the mother, ran up and quickly jerked Maria away from Sam. "Stay away from my daughter, you dirty blind whore!" she spat as she led her daughter out of the alleyway.

Sam frowned. _Blind?_ _But I can see… _Sam just gave a mental shrug and sagged. He was going to die, anyway. Right here, virtually naked, beaten to hell and probably internally bleeding. Sam gave a wet sigh. _Maybe it's better this way…_

---

"... you dirty blind whore!"

Dean froze. He only heard the last part of that woman's sentence, but that was enough to set off alarms in his head. "Sam...?" he murmured. He ran to the alley that the woman and her daughter just came from. "Sam!" he called before cringing, remembering that he can't hear. He ran into the alleyway to stop frozen when he reached the end. A limp figure was sitting in the corner, almost completely naked except for a pair of boxers.

"Sam!" Dean ran up to Sam and carefully cradled Sam's head in his hands. His eyes were closed and his face was covered in a substance Dean recognized, but didn't dare acknowledge. "Wake up!" Dean gently shook Sam, making him moan and crack his dead eyes open. "Sam! Thank god! Can you see me?"

Sam blinked heavily, sure that was he was seeing wasn't real. "No..." he whimpered. He tried to pull his head away from Dean's grip but didn't have the strength. "Go 'way... please..."

Dean did a quick once over of Sam's body, noting the bruises, lash marks, and... other injuries. "We need to get you to a hospital..."

Sam tried to shake his head. "Please... leave..."

Dean kept Sam's head in a firm grip and foced Sam's eyes towards him. "You can see me, can't you?"

Sam frowned a little, trying to figure out what Dean was saying. "Sl-lower..."

"What?"

Sam's frown deepened. "Slow..."

"Oh!" Dean looked directly in Sam's dead eyes, trying to convince his skeptic brain that Sam _can_ see him. "_See._ Can... you... see?"

Sam slowly nodded. "G-get awaaay..."

Dean shook his head. "Not a chance in the world, little bro." He flipped out his cell and quickly called an ambulance. Then he tore off a piece of his shirt and started to wipe Sam's face off.

Sam flinched back when Dean started to clean his face. "No..." he whimpered.

Dean lay a hand on the back of Sam's head. "Shh... I'm just cleaning your face off," Dean said slowly, carefully enunciating every word.

"Dirty..." Sam said.

"That's right," Dean said distractedly.

"No... _I'm_ dirt-ty... tainted... evil, bad... Please leave!" Sam sobbed. His sobs abruptly stopped when a harsh coughing spell came over him, a thin rivulet of blood coming out of his mouth.

"Oh god... Sam, you need to stay still!" Dean said to Sam's face.

"L-leeeeave..." Sam whispered before falling unconscious.

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